


Date me, Baz Pitch!

by Welikesandalwood



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Date Me Bryson Keller, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Feels, Baz dates a bunch of OC's, Coffee Shops, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Normal AU, POV Alternating, Sharing Clothes, Simon is not happy about it, Slow Burn, Tutoring, sport references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 68,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28265727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welikesandalwood/pseuds/Welikesandalwood
Summary: Everyone knows about the dare.Every Monday morning, Baz Pitch - the most popular and notoriously single guy in school -  has to say yes to the first person to ask him out, and date them for a week. If he says no, or breaks any of the rules of the game, he loses. As far as Watford highschool is aware, Baz Pitch is straight. But the rules never specified that only girls could play ...Meanwhile; Dev and Niall are oblivious idiots in love, and only Baz knows. He can't tell either of them about the others feelings, however, because they've both sworn him to secrecy and it would either 'out' Dev or jeopardize Niall's feelings.
Relationships: Dev & Niall & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Dev/Niall (Simon Snow), Niall (Simon Snow)/Original Male Character(s), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 308
Kudos: 428





	1. The Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have some Snowbaz [ Fanart ](https://www.instagram.com/p/CGkFQVlg5D0/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)[](https://www.instagram.com/p/CGkFQVlg5D0/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)
> 
> By me!

**SIMON**

It all happened the weekend of Halloween. Baz Pitch always hosted an annual ‘exclusive’, ‘invitation-only’ Halloween costume party. I, of course, never acquire an invitation, but I get in as Penny’s plus-one (she and Baz are ‘academic allies’) – or on account of being on the rugby team (captain) (although he never tells _me_ to invite the team, he tells our mutual friend Matt to bring over his ‘rugby friends’). Baz is never surprised when I show up like he expects me to be there. But he never actually invites me. He’s aggravating.

Baz’s house looks like a gothic mansion. I’m not sure if that’s part of the Halloween décor or if he legitimately lives in a Victorian-era haunted house. Similarly, I am half convinced that Baz Pitch is actually a vampire. He always dresses up as a vampire for Halloween. Every. Single. Year. I thought repeating outfits every year is ‘uncool’, but on him, it’s somehow ‘endearing.’ I swear he’s mocking us and is actually a vampire – he looks like a vampire on an average day. But what are you going to do? Accuse the most popular guy in school, who dresses as a vampire annually, of being a vampire? I bet that’s his whole cover though. Like; if he makes himself look like a stereotypical vampire, no one will suspect he is one. Anyway.

The thing about Baz Pitch is I hate him.

We hate each other, actually. We’re enemies, yeah? – captain of the football team and captain of the rugby team. Although he rarely acknowledges our rivalry. He pretends to be too cool to even remember my first name, yet he almost always does these subtle things to instigate a reaction from me. After all, he only started dressing up as a vampire for Halloween after I accused him of being one in middle school. He just…owned it.

Anyway, it all happened at Baz Pitch’s Halloween Party.

 **Saturday, October 31** ** st **

**SIMON**

Baz is violently ignoring me. He’s ignoring me with the level of commitment where you know that it’s intentional and he wants you to _know_ he’s ignoring you, very loudly. This silence is deafening, that sort of thing.

Baz is playing that dumb jock game (I say that as a dumb jock) (Baz, of course, is a very intellectually inclined jock. The only student rivalling Penny. I hate him.) where you throw a Ping-Pong ball into a cup of alcohol and then drink.

I’m trying to readjust my tail – I’m dressed as a red demon with wings – when I see Agatha approach Baz. Agatha is my on-again, off-again girlfriend who Baz has always been after. She’s draping herself all over him, wrapping his cape around her body. She’s wearing literally a bikini with rhinestones and feathers. I want to drag her out of here by the feathers – but we’re off right now so I can’t make a scene. Baz is encouraging her flirting, as always. I still don’t know if it’s because he actually likes her, or just to fuck with me. I’m not sure which possibility is worse.

She leans in to kiss him… I tense. My jaw is clenched. I’m gripping a red cup so hard I’m sure it would have been overflowing into my lap if it wasn’t empty (I’m not a heavy drinker, I’ve been sitting here with an empty alcohol cup for an hour, so people stop offering me drinks. ) I should have left over an hour ago, I’m bored, and Penelope wants to leave. But I need to stay here to keep an eye on a very drunk Agatha, and Baz who is definitely plotting something.

He turns his face slightly, avoiding her kiss. She lands his cheek instead – still too much kissing for me, but I’ll take it as a victory. She looks agitated now, I’m sitting far enough away that I can only barely make out what they’re saying. She’s angry about him rejecting her. She’s accusing him of always leading her on, he’s assuring her that he doesn’t want to make a move on her while intoxicated. I guess that means he actually likes her, then. I feel my stomach sink – why? This should be better than the alternative …

She’s assuring him now that she wants this and consents to it. I roll my eyes. She’s a flirty drunk. I can’t hear his response, but he walks away, she looks embarrassed.

I should probably keep an eye on Agatha, but I need to follow him, make sure he’s not up to anything. Why else would anyone reject Agatha?

Baz meets Dev – his cousin, and one of his minions - in the sitting room, I hang back in the kitchen to watch them from a safe distance. They’re bickering about something.

“Just – look, trust me. Don’t keep these feelings to yourself, how will you know if you don’t put yourself out there?”, Baz seems to be giving Dev … romantic advice?

Dev scoffs, “well those are rich words coming from someone who’s never been in a relationship.”

That surprises me. I guess it’s true that I’ve never seen Baz actually have a girlfriend at school, but he’s that type that you know is dating _someone._

  
“I don’t need to draw from experience for this to look at it objectively.”

“feelings aren’t something you look at objectively!”

“It can be – when you know _both parties so well!”_

Dev sighs, “you’ll understand when you actually develop significant, scary feelings for a person.”

“un-fucking-likely”

Dev groans. A little louder than he probably should have – they’re attracting attention now. Although I guess Baz Pitch can only ever go a few minutes _without_ attracting attention.

“It’s not like you _can’t_ find someone to date you, it’s just that you’re real fucking stubborn”, Dev rolls his eyes

“oh, please”, Baz is activating his diva mode now, he’s tying his sleek black hair into a messy knot, it looks more attractive than it should when it took 3 seconds and didn’t require a mirror. I hate how arrogant he is. “I could probably date a new person every week if I wanted to – I just don’t want to. I’m not stubborn, I just know my standards.”

“Prove it, then.”, Dev smirks right back at him. “I’ll put myself out there when you do.”

**BAZ**

“Prove it, then.”, Dev, the bastard says loud enough for at least 2 dozen people to hear - and I know Simon is stalking me. “I’ll put myself out there when you do.”

What does this moron think he’s doing? He knows I’m as gay as a maypole. I’m so deep in the closet that I could find Narnia. I’m not ashamed; Niall is openly bisexual, and he hardly gets shat on for it. I’m just not ready to come out yet … I don’t know _how_ to,without it becoming a whole thing. Maybe I would if I had a legitimate reason to, but I’m single and happy about it, and we leave for college in a few months so what’s the point? I’ll come out in college.

“Pardon?” because it’s all I can say right now. I’m still processing – I might be malfunctioning.

“The great Baz Pitch,” Dev teases, “too good for anyone in this school,” He _knows_ that’s not it. I just haven’t met any viable options. “Prove it”. The bastard is smirking. I roll my eyes a whole 360 degrees – But Pitches don’t back down from a challenge.

“what are you thinking, Grimm?” It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s dressed like a giant Pooh Bear.

We’re drawing a significant crowd now. Mostly everyone who isn’t drunk, hungover, or currently getting shagged. Niall seems to have re-joined us too, from where he was making out with Matthew (our friend from the rugby team, whom Niall has recently started hooking up with) on the Porch. Niall is dressed like zorro. He’s objectively attractive, but we’ve never seen each other that way. Also, he and Dev are pining for each other, with me in the middle as the only knowing party, of no help because they both swore me to secrecy.

“A challenge of sorts,”, Dev is using that tone where I know he’s going to dare me to do some dumb shit, I’m going to do it, and then we’re both going to be fucked until Niall can get us out of trouble. We all know our roles in this friendship.

I hope things stay the same when they start dating.

Dev continues, “– I dare you, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm – Pitch,” I roll my eyes, “ to date someone new every week.” He’s smirking.

I’m not sure what he’s trying to do, really. Kick me out of the closet? He’d never do that. And, he’s in it too.

He _is_ always on my case about casually dating and getting to know people. The only reason I’m even still in the closet is because I haven’t found anyone worthy of coming out for – and personally I’m comfy here. Dev, however, argues that I’m going to be hiding myself until I find someone worth it, but I won’t find anyone because everyone thinks I’m straight.

Again I say: college.

I raise an eyebrow at him, “elaborate.”

“a dare,” Dev explains, taking a seat next to Penelope Bunce on the couch, “you need to date a new person every week. If you get tired of it or run out of people to date – you lose”

“well there’d have to be a time – limit on that; eventually he’ll exhaust all options and then that’s hardly fair” Niall, bless his soul, cuts in

“A dare like this needs proper rules. I nominate myself as dare chancellor, all in favour?”, Penelope Bunce volunteers.

All things considered, this is quite mental, but I actually trust Penelope to keep things fair, so I start clapping, and soon everyone is clapping. I chance a glance at Simon Snow – he looks bewildered.

“okay Bunce, give us the rules”

“time limit. It’s a new relationship every week, so it has to be long enough to require a proper pool of willing participants to prove your point” – merlin she’s already made dating sound boring, “but it can’t take over your whole life” – I’ve always liked this girl. “how about … from Monday until the valentines Ball? it’s hardly fair to force you to celebrate valentines day with someone you probably aren’t voluntarily dating”

“I like that. Three months sounds fair. Dev?”

“sounds fair”, dev agrees. “ _but,_ if Bazzy loses then his punishment is he needs to take a date to the Valentines Ball. And I’m talking pre-date dinner, limo, tux, dancing – the full monty”

Dev should stand for Devil.

“what if Baz wins?” Matthew asks. He’s always been a friend but he’s been trying to get an in-, in our trio lately. Trying to get along with Niall’s friends. I see Dev clench his jaw. He looks away from Matthew, back at me.

“Name your price, Bazzy”

“If I win then you’ll get off my back about dates, dating, romance all that stuff! I don’t want to hear a word about it again – I am going to the Valentines Ball stag and looking better than everyone, and you’ll will be fucking happy about it”

“that’s fair – you’d have tried dating about a dozen people by then so if it’s still not for you we won’t bring it up again”, Niall offers

“Okay,” Bunce intervenes, “if Baz loses, he has to take a date to the Valentines Ball but if he wins he gets to go stag for, like, the rest of his life. Any rules?”

To my surprise (or maybe I shouldn’t be surprised because he always thinks I’m plotting) it’s Simon who responds, “How do we know Baz is playing properly and not just paying a different person off every week? Or pretending to date someone?”

“Really think I can’t catch a date without my wallet, Snow?” that hurts a bit since I fancy him more than a bit. That’s precisely the reason I’m an arsehole to him. I don’t need the constant reminder about how straight he is when all I want is to scatter his body with kisses, like the moles that cover it.

“ 'course you can,” he says easily, “but a different person every week? That’s a big ask for even you, Pitch” he smirks.

“We could keep it within Watford only – no outside participants” Penelope suggests

“And Baz can’t ask anyone out”, Dev smirks.

“what? Then how the fuck must I date anyone??”

“If _you_ ask people –I know you, cousin, you’ll have a spreadsheet of candidates you’re going to ask out for every week for the next three months by tonight! You’ll do it for the sake of doing it and ask out everyone who isn’t even a legitimate option for something real – you won’t give anyone a chance.”

I roll my eyes, but he’s not wrong.

“that’s probably for the best though,” Bunce adds, “anyone participating can’t feel too special about you asking them out and they need to know the rules – so no one bothers getting attached. Maybe the rule should be that every week, you date the first person to ask you out. That way, you know whoever asks you already knows about the dare and the rules and that you’re breaking up in a week”

“That’s fair. So, if I’m waiting for people to ask me, I don’t really have much control of the situation except being a boyfriend.”

“scared no one’s going to ask you out, cousin?” Dev smirks

“I’m encouraging people to ask me out, Dev, with a guarantee that I won’t reject them I’m certain I can pool together enough people for 3 months.”

“a few more rules,” Bunce cuts in, “there should be a code or something – so we know that the person asking you is asking on the basis of the bet and not genuinely … to avoid any confusion”

“they’re not really asking – it’s not like Baz has much choice. They’re just updating you about who your stand-in partner is for the week” Niall says. I really do appreciate my friends. They’ve so carefully steered clear of saying the words ‘girl’ or ‘girlfriends’ … leaving it open if any guys want to ask me. I’m not out, but this isn’t a bad way to casually come out.

“I got it. The first person every Monday morning – in school – to say “Date me, Baz Pitch” will automatically be my partner for the week. But only until Friday, I’m not dedicating three months of weekends to this”

“the school week” Penny agrees, “they have to ask you out _after the_ first bell on Monday morning, and you can break up after the last bell on Friday afternoon. Fair?”

“fair. So, what are all our rules?”

“Hold up – I’ll post this to my Ig – get the word out” Niall volunteers as Dev and Penelope finalize something adjacent to a fucking contract.

> **Date me, Baz Pitch: Dare**
> 
> **Rules:**
> 
>   1. Baz must say yes to the first person to ask him out after first bell every Monday Morning.
> 

>   * Starting: November 2nd2020
>   * Last Week of Dare: February 8th2021
> 

>   1. Every relationship ends after the last bell every Friday.
>   2. The person must say the words “Date me, Baz Pitch” as a code that they agree to the terms of this dare.
>   3. No physical intimacy during the duration of this dare – this is not a real relationship.
>   4. No repeats. Different person every week.
>   5. Baz is not obligated to any commitments or promises exceeding the break-up date following one week.
>   6. Only seniors of Watford Highschool can participate.
>   7. Baz loses if:
> 

>   * He fails to be asked out by anyone before last bell on Monday afternoon.
>   * He quits the bet prematurely.
>   * He breaks any of the rules.
> 

>   1. Baz wins if:
> 

>   * He follows all the rules and completes the three months.
> 


**PENELOPE**

“okay”, I’ve just finished a tentative list of rules that Niall and Dev will both put up on their socials to get the word out. Truly I think this whole dare is barbaric and I should not be encouraging this behaviour. I just felt so bad for these morons, they really needed some rules to be dictated to them and someone to make sure they don’t end up breaking the law or anything – they didn’t even realize that Basil is eighteen and needs to exclude minors from the sample group!

**January 2021**

**SIMON**

And that’s how it started. A stupid argument and a stupid dare to get people off his back about relationships – a deal to temporarily date the first person to ask him out every week.

It had been over two months. Baz had played along, he never broke his rules for anyone.

Until me.


	2. The Calm before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot build up.
> 
> Feelings. 
> 
> Some character bg before we get to day 1 of the dare itself 
> 
> Dev and Niall. 
> 
> Baz is gay for Simon.

**Saturday, October 31 st**

**DEV**

“what, the fuck, is wrong with you?” Niall is reprimanding me – again. He doesn’t sound so much angry as exasperated. I’m glad he’s not angry at me. It takes a lot to get him angry, he’s a laid back dude, but when you succeed he tends to hold a grudge about it.

“I’m sorry – yyyy” I whine. I want to walk closer to him, but I can’t stop seeing Matt – the arsehole- draped all over him. I’ve never been particularly possessive of any of the girls I’ve dated. I knew I was the shit, and if they couldn’t see that I simply moved on. I never questioned my worth. I never got … jealous. I believed you didn’t _need_ to get jealous if you were secure enough.

The day I first saw Niall making out with a guy was very difficult for me. And confusing. I realized two things; firstly, I was jealous. I didn’t know _why_ but I wanted to _drag_ the guy off Niall. Baz was with me and stopped me and then we both had to have a long-ass conversation about my reaction and what this potentially means about my sexuality and emotions and shit.

Subsequently, I also realized I was probably not the straightest. Although – No other guy does anything for me. Why is Niall the exception? I don’t know.

Why did I only get jealous when I saw Niall with another guy when I had seen him kiss girls before? I don’t know that either.

Baz believes it’s because the image made me realise that I’m an … option. I don’t know if that’s it, but since then I’ve felt my stomach sink to my dick every time I saw Niall with anyone else– guy or girl alike. Maybe Baz is right and seeing him with a guy just made me realise a bunch of shit I couldn’t un-realise.

“ _Honestly_ Dee,” he berates, I love when he calls me nicknames, “What _were_ you thinking? How could you dare him something like that when you _know_ we’re the only ones who know he’s gay”

“Need I remind you that you _helped_ write the contract?”

“I had to oversee! You two need consistent supervision and should never be left alone – least of all together!”, Niall sounds exasperated now - I would love to be alone with him.

I sigh exaggeratedly, “I intentionally never used the word ‘girlfriend’ – guys have just as much right to ask Baz out – they just need to have the balls.”

“I did pick up on that,” Niall smirks at me, “nice trick. But still – most, if not all, of the people who ask Baz will be girls. That’s going to be a disaster! What if no one else picks up on the loophole? And everyone still thinks he's straight so they may never ask him out anyway”

“We should defs spread the word – we're friends with a bunch of queer guys … I’m sure we can subtly mention that there’s a gender loophole in the dare so the rules still apply to guys …”

“they might feel then like Baz is only saying yes because of the dare –”

“Baz is only saying yes to _anyone_ because of the dare –”

“but they think he’s straight – they might feel more like it’s… harassment. Trust me,” Niall trails off nervously, “I would never hit on a straight guy, even if I knew there were conditions where he had to say yes. If I knew it wasn’t what he wanted I’d never want to induce a sexuality crises in him or just … cross his boundaries, y’know?”

It almost feels like Niall is trying to tell me something else with his words...

**NIALL**

Take a fucking hint, _Jesus_ , are you straight or not for fucks sake

**DEV**

I sigh.

“what if you ask him out?” I enquire

Niall looks at me like I’ve suggested we go and egg Kensington. I wouldn’t mind trying to egg Kensington, actually, now that I think about it…

“I mean,” I amend, “just to get it going y’know? – like, if by December still no guys have caught up and at least tried to ask Baz out, even if girls beat them to do it first, then you can just ask him out?

Just to get the ball rolling and if anyone asks just be like ‘well we never specified boys _can't_ play’”

Niall looks troubled.

“he’s like a brother to me, Dev,”

“he’s literally like a brother to me so _I_ can’t do it… it’s not like it’s a real relationship that would affect your friendship or anything and we can tell him why you asked him so he won’t get the wrong idea – wait …is this about Matthew?”

“what?”

“is this about Matthew? Is he your boyfriend now?”

Niall groans, “no it’s not about Matthew it’s about the fact that Baz is my friend and I don’t want to date him – but, if I get an opening I’ll mention that guys can also play”

We’re at his gate now. We were walking home together from Baz’s house. Our houses are all just a few minutes away from each other, we grew up riding bikes on these roads – it’s how we became friends (well, Baz and I are cousins but it’s how the three of us became buds).

I linger… I should walk away. It’s the ‘bro’ thing to do. I don't want to wait until Monday to see him again. 

**NIALL**

Don’t go.

**DEV**

I back away after a minute of silence.

“see you, man,” I give him a small wave as I continue the few minutes walk to my own home. I hope I hid my longing. 

***

* * *

**BAZ**

Well. Things are going quite poorly if I do say so myself. Currently, I’m lying face-down on my bed, being a failure in life. Why did I agree to this dare? Because I didn’t want to seem a coward in front of my peers? – unlikely. I don’t particularly care about being a people-pleaser, which is probably why I’m considered ‘cool’ in the first place. And _because_ of my social status, any response I could have had to Dev’s insane dare would have been considered a ‘cool guy response’. There was no wrong answer.

Except for my answer.

Date a new person every week? That’s some bullshit, not to mention impossible. I’ve never been anyone’s boyfriend in my life, what is this, a catch-up course?

It’s not that I doubt that people will ask me out, I’m dreading the inevitability of it, in fact. Firstly, it’s unlikely that anyone I actually _want_ to date would participate in the dare. I’m uncertain how obvious Dev was about his loophole that guys are, in fact, not explicitly excluded from the participant pool, but everyone thinks I’m straight so it’s unlikely any of the possibly closeted gay prospects would go through the trouble of coming-out for this. As for the pre-existing pool of out and proud queer guys, I’m not particularly partial to any of them. Sure, many of them are attractive and multiple guys have even hit on me in the past – albeit cautiously – but I really do think my particular type is ‘straight’ guys.

Speaking of my type, maybe that’s the reason I let Dev reel me into yet another insane plan – because Simon Snow was there? Because I wanted to get on his nerves and get his attention?

Simon and I aren’t friends per se… there’s a mutual animosity between us. I’m convinced he hates me. I don’t hate him.

When I was fifteen, I began to suspect that I was not as … straight as I’d initially assumed. Simon bloody Snow showed up to a pool party and took off his shirt and I was suddenly very, very gay. It took me a while to come to terms with it, I avoided him for the most part. After some exploration, I came to terms with my sexuality and the fact that I had a whole crush on Simon Snow. The problem was, I didn’t know what to do about it. Should I flirt with him? How do you even know if another bloke is queer and if it’s acceptable to flirt with him before finding out?

Simon Snow caused me a mid-life crisis at fifteen. (Then again, maybe that _was_ the middle of my life – it was also the summer I started smoking, so.)

I’ve always been particularly good looking so it’s not like I had never before charmed or flirted with anyone, but it was my first genuine crush. After weeks of mental and emotional preparation, I decided to try subtly flirting with him and then hypothesizing his sexuality from his reaction. I saw him walking in my direction in the halls, I decided to bump into him while walking past to get his attention – as they do in the movies sometimes. I thought maybe he’d drop a few books and I could bend down to pick them up at the same time as he does and our fingers would brush …

That was not what happened.

I bumped into him hard and he turned a startled glance at me. He did not drop the books - I had not planned for that. Apparently, I panic-flirt by being mean because my response was, honest to god, “watch it, Snow, for snakes sakes are you _blind”,_ I think I even accompanied it with a sneer.

He swore me since _I_ walked into _him_. A few weeks later, when I had finally regained the courage to try again – with fewer insults – he started dating Wellbelove. That … hurt more than it probably should have, since I only tried flirting with him the one time and ended up behaving like an arsehole. Unfortunately, Snow apparently decided after that incident that we were enemies. The animosity wasn’t helped by the fact that Wellbelove also seemed to fancy me. There was just no going back afterwards and now I’m a dick to him every time I see him because it’s too late to _stop,_ and he’s a dick to me but I think he’s more genuine in his hatred.

I’m not sure if it’s unresolved feelings for Snow (I’m not even sure if I still like him or not since its completely hopeless now. I’m still very gay for him.) or the trauma from the epic failure that was me flirting with the first guy I actually liked, but I never actually fell for anyone since then – apart from just admiring them on an aesthetic, superficial level.

So… maybe tonight was just me acting out to get his attention. Make him jealous? – ridiculous.

I can’t psychoanalyze it right now… but I know that Monday will be a whole new version of Hell.

The old grandfather clock downstairs chimes the hour.

00:00, November 1st.

I tie my hair into a messy bun, switch off the lights and toss and turn until eventually I’m swept up into an uneasy sleep. Not for the first time, I dream of blue eyes and a constellation of freckles.


	3. Is this flirting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first time someone asks Baz Pitch out and he has to say yes.  
> Dev and Niall drama.  
> Matthew.  
> Baz and Penny being wholesome BFF's  
> is this flirting? Snowbaz edition

**BAZ**

It’s not like I was deluded into thinking that the dare wouldn’t be a big deal at school. I know how I look. I know being captain of the football team, rich, and smart, leads to inevitable popularity. I never actually wanted it, I may not be particularly low-key, but I’m hardly a social butterfly.

The notoriously single golden boy, bound to say yes to the first person to ask him out every week? I knew it would make waves. I knew it would be the height of Watford gossip for a few weeks at least.

I was not prepared for this, though.

**Monday, November 2 nd**

I pull up to my usual parking spot – next to the football field – and put the Porsche in neutral. The parking lot is busier than usual for this time. It’s still early and I’m only here for football practice, but they’ve left my spot available. Perks of popularity.

Dev’s jeep is here. I wonder if Niall got a ride with Dev today or with Matthew? Sometimes, the three of us carpool for fun and convenience. But I tutor after football practice so Dev and Niall generally travel without me – except recently, Matthew has joined the equation.

Jogging to the changeroom, I find Dev already changed into his kit.

He grins at me, I give him the stink eye. “Niall drive with you today?”

He visibly saddens, “no, he rode with ‘ _Matthew’”_

I shake my head, “just – trust me, tell him you have feelings for him before he’s actually in a serious thing and you _can’t_ say anything.”

“last night he said you were like a brother to him!”

“ditto”, I raise an eyebrow at him.

He sighs, “he’s known me just as long as he’s known you, _and_ _he knows about you_ -” he means that I’m gay, “- if he sees _you_ as a brother, then-”

I cut him off, this is ridiculous, “just stop, Dev, feelings don’t work this way. And it’s up to you to tell him because as far as he knows, you’re straight. You’re not even an option. It’s easier for you, you know he’s bisexual.”

“Yeah, brilliant” he’s in his moping mode now, “so when he rejects me, I’ll know it was because he didn’t like me, I can’t even convince myself that it’s a sexuality thing.”

I bang my head against my locker.

The _'Dev &Niall'_ situation is a confusing dynamic. Niall came out as bisexual when we were fifteen. He was never too concerned about it – his parents are very liberal. I was still figuring my feelings out at the time, and I came out to Dev and Niall, both, roughly a year later.

There was a phase last year when I really wanted to come out. I was tired of gently letting girls down when they hit on me, some of them were really nice and meant well. Niall and Dev were both very encouraging. Niall asked how I realized I was gay and if I had feelings for anyone, that’s when I told him about Simon. That’s when he told me about Dev.

He said he’d always loved Dev and me, but with me, it was like a brother and with Dev…it had felt different in the last few years. Dev was basically the catalyst of Niall’s bisexual awakening. He said he couldn’t pin down the moment he started feeling differently about Dev, but that it was just a bunch of things. Wanting to be close to Dev all the time, wanting him around, missing him when he wasn’t. I think the main comparison that Niall drew was his feelings for Dev compared to his feelings for me. That’s how he knew what he felt for Dev wasn’t platonic anymore.

He fell in love with Dev, so slow he didn’t even realize it until he was all in.

Niall swore me to secrecy, he made me promise. I would never even considered breaking his promise, although Dev is my cousin. I told him Dev would be understanding, but he said it was hopeless because Dev is straight and he didn’t want to ruin one of the most important relationships in his life over a pipedream. He hid his feelings and although I felt bad for him, all was mostly well. For a few months.

Niall - in love with Dev - resorted to casually dating and making out with every hot guy and girl in his general area in a desperate effort to get over Dev.

Then Dev saw Niall kissing some guy, had a sexual identity crisis, and now _Dev wants Niall._

Which would be fucking brilliant - except Dev is too scared to tell Niall, and I can’t tell him that Niall is already in love with him because it’s not my secret to tell – I don’t want to ruin this for either of them. As far as I know, Dev is attracted to Niall and weirdly possessive of him, but I don’t know if he’s in love with Niall so I can’t sell Niall out.

But, I also can’t tell Niall about Dev because, firstly, Dev asked me not to (I don’t really care about this promise since I know Niall is mutually interested) but more importantly, Dev isn’t out. Coming out is _his._ It’s important that he does that for himself, I can't rob him of that. I won't. Especially coming out to someone as important to him as Niall. 

So now I’m caught between the secrets of both my best friends who are pining over each other and I can’t give them a crutch without outing one of them or jeopardizing the feelings of the other. These two seriously need to have a conversation about their feelings.

Alas.

* * *

Dev and I bicker more on our way to football practice. The moment I reach the pitch is when I know I fucked up. The bleachers are full. Packed. As busy as they are for our games, and this is literally nothing more than a non-compulsory early morning practice. No one ever shows up for these. The entire team seems to be paralyzed – and confused – when Aimee Hernandez struts up to the center of the pitch. She’s walking towards me.

“do you like what I did here, Bazzy?”, I hate when she calls me that. That was Dev’s nickname for me when we were toddlers and she just hasn’t earned the right to call me that.

“not my name – are you responsible for this … gathering?” curiously, I survey the crowd. Most of the senior class is here, but a fair amount of juniors and freshmen. Really it feels like the entire school is here. Still, upon a more detailed observation, I see that only about half the bleachers are actually full. Way too much for practice, but not as much a crowd as game days.

“I wanted everyone to witness when we finally make this,” she gestures between myself and her…boobs, “official.” She smiles sweetly. Or at least it probably should have been sweet but she’s a vicious little thing. 

She’s been telling people we’re a thing for years. Captain of the football team and captain of the cheerleading squad.

I feel like taking one of her megaphones and screaming, “Give me a G! – Give me an A! – Give me a Y! – what does that spell? GAY! I’m gay you blind arseholes!”

But I do not.

“This?”, I say instead. I’ve learned that the best way to get under Aimee’s skin Is to pretend to be oblivious to her advances - or our apparent love.

She’s getting agitated, now. She inhales dramatically while pinching the bridge of her nose. But then she says the words that get me right where she wants me. She pulls out one of those large cone-shaped megaphones, and makes direct eye-contact with me while saying, for the entire crowd, “Date me, Baz Pitch!!!”.

The crowd erupts in cheer.

I turn to glare at Dev, he looks genuinely sorry. Instead of answering I check the time on the large clock which we use to keep track of practice. The first bell has just gone off a few minutes ago, while Dev and I were in the changeroom. Practice is about to start. I have no loophole. She’s looking at me expectantly.

I exhale a sigh of defeat, “yes.”

**DEV**

Okay, fine. I feel like shit.

I hadn’t created this dare with bad intentions, trust me. I _really_ didn’t intend for Bazzy’s first relationship to be with _Aimee._ She’s gorgeous, but she has the depth of single-ply toilet paper. The personality of it too. Also, he's gay.

Really, I just wanted him to put himself out there more. He’s content but I don’t always feel like he’s _happy._ I know how I feel when I’m lonely. I didn’t want him to feel that way.

Really I thought this whole thing would be fun and a positive experience for him. I thought it would just make him more popular – if that’s possible – and if we got guys to ask him out he might actually meet someone he liked. Baz might be confident and popular but he’s terrible at social confrontation. Even if he fancies a bloke, I don’t expect him to handle that appropriately. And I’m sure there’s plenty of decent lads interested in him, but he’s 'straight' and intimidating. I thought that if people knew he would say yes, he might actually meet someone through this and just … I thought it would be good for him.

In the future, I shall simply resort to taking Baz and Niall to a gay club.

Watching the frown on his face, the crinkle of his brow as he grudgingly agrees to spend a week dating a girl we all can’t stand? Pretending to be someone he’s not?

I’m a terrible friend. I’m terrible family, really.

No wonder Niall prefers Matthew.

**PENELOPE**

The look on Baz’s face as he says yes to the Queen Bee – Simon’s name for Aimee – actually makes me pity him. Although I don’t really know what else he was expecting to come of this dare. Myself, I had anticipated that either Aimee, Agatha, or Anwar (they never explicitly excluded men from asking Baz out and I knew Anwar, a gay guy who runs this school about as much as Agatha and Aimee do, would take advantage of that) would be the first to ask him out.

To ensure the dare's effectiveness, we (I’m still dare chancellor) agreed that Baz needs to take this seriously. Saying that he’s someone's boyfriend for a week and ignoring them doesn’t count. We excluded physical intimacy, but Baz is obligated to actually civilly speak to Aimee, eat lunch with her and text / call her during the five-day relationship duration.

I never thought I’d say this, but I pity you, Baz Pitch.

**BAZ**

Aimee has taken to sitting directly on top of me during lunch. It’s very off-putting. She smells like vanilla and it’s intoxicating. We’re sitting at the cheerleader’s table and the conversation is a bore. I want to go play footie with the boys or intimidate Simon. Aimee behaves like my arms don’t work – she keeps feeding me – when the real issue is I can’t feel my legs with her on top of me.

They’re snickering about Wellbelove now, “She’s not sitting with us today, I guess she’s still jealous that I beat her to asking you out”, she leans forward to kiss me on my cheek, I avoid her face.

“no physical intimacy – it’s in the rules”

“surely those stupid rules don’t apply to _me,_ Bazzy”

“those stupid rules are the only reason I’m ‘dating’ you Aimee,” I say with finger quotes at the word ‘dating’, “and who knows, maybe she’ll ask me out next week”

“next week?”, Aimee looks positively startled. I can’t imagine why.

“Surely you’ve read the terms of the dare, haven’t you, Aimee?” I seriously inquire, “It’s how you knew what to say?”

“sure, but -”

“so you know that each ‘relationship’ lasts only five days, next Monday someone else asks me out – no repeats”

“That’s what it _said,_ but we’re already together now Basil –” oof, if she’s using my actual name she’s likely at the end of her fuse. I better push her. Not my fault if she dumps my ass. “ – as we should have been for a while now, so you don’t need to continue with this stupid dare. Luckily I was the first person to ask you out – ”, I mean I don’t feel lucky but okay, “ – so we can just stay together and even though you lose the dare you’re taking me to the ball anyway so it won't matter”

I am rather bewildered.

And perplexed. 

I am bewildered and perplexed. 

I clear my throat.

“Aimee, dear. I assure you, this is all part of the dare. None of this is a real relationship and I will be following the rules of the dare exactly because the only reason we are here right now,” I gesture vaguely to the cheerleader table, “is because I intend to win the bet. Now - ”, I dislodge her from my lap, “no physical intimacy. We’re lucky Penelope didn’t see, she’s dare chancellor, she could have my head for that breach.”

* * *

I stroll into AP Calculus after lunch like I own the place. I guess I kind of do, with a 95% average. My only competition for the head of the class is Penelope. I wink at her as I take my seat, next to her. In some ways we’re rivals, I guess. But mostly we help each other out. I don’t know if we’re friends exactly because we don’t make conversation about anything that’s not related to academics (until the dare, apparently), but we’re definitely academic allies. As much as I love the taste of beating Penelope Bunce, I’m equally impressed by her when she beats me.

“Hi, Basilton,” she says to me, straightening her cat-eyed glasses. She’s the only person who says the fuller version of my name, but I guess its fair since I call her Bunce (only when I'm talking _to_ her) (if I'm talking about her she's 'Penelope' because I don't appreciate the hate she gets from the popular girls), “ can I cross-reference your homework with mine? I meant to ask you for it during lunch but you had a cheerleader on you.” she’s smirking, slightly. She’s teasing me, I realize.

“saw that did you?," I hand her my binder for the module," are you going to reprimand me in the name of the dare, oh mighty chancellor?”

She giggles. It’s not as annoying as it usually is when girls giggle in front of me. Perhaps because she’s sincere about it. She’s not trying to be ‘cute’ or flirt. She just thinks I’m funny.

It’s refreshing.

“Aimee’s as clingy as a koala bear, she was being all territorial because Agatha was watching. I decided to overlook that particular breach assuming it wasn’t your doing, but any more serious breaches will have you going to the Ball in a horse and carriage and corsage shopping.”

I frown. “We’re writing that Monday”

She laughs, “I know. I’ll be home studying that Sunday night while you’re twirling Aimee around, don’t feel too sad when I beat you. maybe I’ll even share my study cards with you as a show of good faith”

  
“careful, Bunce, I might just ask _you_ to the Valentines ball if I lose the dare just to prevent you from studying without me”

She laughs, I smile at her. It’s easy with her. She doesn’t try to impress me. Our priorities line up. And most of all, we have an unspoken agreement to never mention Simon.

* * *

**SIMON**

I’ve been in a shitty mood all day. You can’t go five minutes without hearing about Baz-fucking-Pitch or his stupid dare. I messed up at rugby today and the coach told me to take a run to clear my head – I was too aggressive.

I was too aggressive for _rugby._

I’ve just changed out of my rugby kit when I pull out my phone to check Penny’s timetable. She saved a picture for it in my gallery so I can always find her when I’m free between classes, I’m free after rugby, for the rest of the day.

She has AP Calculus but it should be finishing in about 20 minutes – I decide to take a slow walk there and get us both some food from the cafeteria. She has that class with Baz.

I remember Aggie ranting about how self-deprecating it is to attain a boyfriend based on a bet, and that although she wants to date Baz she’d rather he ask her out of his own will and not because of a dare, for five days. It was the first time Agatha had blatantly stated that she wants to date Baz and I don’t like how it makes me feel. While aggie ranted, Penny was complaining because she needed something from Baz but can’t see past the cheerleader on top of him to ask him for it.

“for snake's sake, Pen, I’ll go ask for it”, I said, while getting up. Penny stopped me and said she’d just ask for it in class.

Matthew catches up to me on my walk to the main campus, he’s on the rugby team with me.

“hey, 'cap, where you heading?”

“Hey Matty, Pen has calc with professor Sakowitz, I’m going to stop at the caf and then make my way there to fetch her after”

“oh cool! Yeah, I think Baz has that class too”

I’m not sure why he’s telling me this.

“you and Baz close?” I enquire

“Yeah totally, I’m kind of dating his friend Niall, y’know?”

Oh, that makes sense. I say so.

“oh! I didn’t realize you guys were that serious, but congratz mate”

“I guess we’re not that serious yet,” Matthew shrugs sheepishly. We’re walking up a steep incline now to reach the main campus and it kills your quads after spending an hour of practice in scrummages, “but we’re getting there. And a part of that is making friends with his friends – you mind if I tag along?”

“sure”

“how about that bet tho?”

I all but roll my eyes, “hmm.” We’re entering the cafeteria now and I pretend to be too preoccupied considering my options to respond appropriately.

“I swear – if I wasn’t trying to date Niall I would totally ask Baz out first thing next Monday!”

That get’s my attention.

I turn to him, abandoning my quest for food.

“what?”

Matt raises his eyebrows, “well, they never really said guys can’t participate, and Baz isn’t homophobic…”

“but he’s straight – I think it was a given that only girls should ask him out since he’s straight”

Matthew shrugs. Like this is a situation that is appropriate for _shrugging._ “well, there’s no physical stuff, yeah? It’s really just hanging out, texting, lifts to and from school, stuff like that. And it has an expiry date. Really, for us, gay guys it's just like… a chance to live out a fantasy. It’s not like anything can happen for Baz to feel uncomfortable”

I think about that, but I don’t say more about the topic.

I order a wors roll with cheese and fried onions for myself, and a butter paneer curry and naan for Penny. It will take a few minutes for both orders to be ready – they’re from different places – so I resort to meeting Penny outside her class while I wait. Hopefully, they’re both ready by the time we return.

Matthew joins me and we make idle conversation about rugby.

* * *

We’ve only been sitting on the bench outside Mr. Sakowitz’s class for a few minutes before we hear shuffling. The door opens and students start pouring out. I know Penelope and Baz will be the last to leave despite the fact that they sit right at the front of the class – they don’t pack their bags early, they write until they’ve written it all down (else Pen takes pictures of the whiteboard with her phone if she can’t finish in time and she sends them to Baz as well) (their friendship would be cute if he wasn’t my enemy), they always have arguments and attack Mr. Sakowitz with questions after the lecture. I get comfy on the bench. This will take a while. I’m used to this.

Matthew, evidently, is not. I can see him searching the crowd of students for Baz. For a reason I can’t fathom, I find it deeply frustrating.

“he’ll be a few minutes,” I tell him, “he’s got to pack his bag in a particular order, and not before he’s written everything down and queried everything he wasn’t sure about with the lecturer.” I roll my eyes. I’m not sure why. penny does that too (except her bag is a bit more haphazard than Baz’s).

After an extra ten minutes, they walk out together. They seem to be having a heated argument and if you didn’t know them you’d think they were fighting. She spots me and her expression immediately clears up, she turns to Baz.

“I guess we’ll see which one of us is right on Wednesday, Basil” she gives him a smirk and a small wave, as he winks at her and then turns a superior smirk at me. Before I can respond, he turns his back to me, blocking off any conversation, and makes conversation with Matthew. They’re still conversing as Penny and I walk past them – Matt and I nod to each other in mutual farewell – and head to the cafeteria.

Baz didn’t even wonder why Matthew was waiting outside his class. I know it’s the first time Matt’s done that. Baz wasn’t hostile or an arsehole at all, he was perfectly civil.

Why can’t he ever talk to me like that?

**BAZ**

Bunce and I are having an intellectual disagreement. This isn’t new but it’s uncommon – we generally agree with most things on an academic level. I barely have any time to visit the loo and grab a bite to eat before practice and tutoring. We present our disagreement to Mr. Sakowitz who seems equally exhausted of the two of us (can’t blame him) as he is proud of us (as he should be). He said he sees where we’re both coming from and we make strong arguments. Still, he thinks it would be more beneficial to us to try the homework he left us. If we don’t figure out which one of us is right from there, we’ll address it during corrections on Wednesday.

Now we’re just arguing over which one of us is going to be right on Wednesday when we spot Simon and Niall's boy toy waiting outside the class. For a moment, I assume that Matthew is here with Snow, they’re friends from rugby - before I see him turn away from Simon and look expectantly at me.

Why is he here? What does he want?

Penelope bids me a farewell, I wink at her and smirk at Snow. I’m not sure why. I just like riling him up.

I head over to Matthew, “what’s up, mate?”

“hey, man”

he nods to Simon.

He makes casual conversation, apparently, Niall still has a lecture before he’s ready for Matt to give him a ride home (Niall doesn’t have his own wheels yet because he failed his drivers' test. Not that he immediately needs it with Dev and me at his disposal), so he thought we’d hang out. I note that he didn’t think to find Dev. Hilarious that he’s the first person to find me more approachable than Dev.

He seems rather serious about Niall, I guess.

He’s nice enough.

Sorry bud, but I’m team Dev.

“sure, mate, I’m just heading to get some food before going to the field”

* * *

Aimee tries to make me cancel my tutoring gig to drive her home – I tell her to either wait the hour or go home the way she got here. I’m silently grateful that she’s not actually my girlfriend.

I don’t _need_ to do tutoring, not financially anyway.

But it looks good on a cv and college apps, and I’m brilliant. And kids genuinely rely on me.

After practice, I’m heading to the changeroom, mentally preparing myself to tutor, when I see him.

Bronze curls, blue eyes.

He’s watching me from the bleachers.

Simon Snow.

Naturally, I try to get his attention.

That’s a lie – I try to keep his attention, he’s already watching me.

I place the football on the ground and aim for his general area, I kick.

**SIMON**

I love watching football practice when I can. Personally, I’m partial to rugby but football is so graceful. It’s like watching the athlete lose himself in a trance. And Baz is the best. He’s the fastest, and longest – honestly, and the most graceful. He ties his long hair in a bun when he’s playing but it’s silky enough that it quickly unravels as he plays until there's strands of hair plastered against his sweaty forehead and neck. His cheeks are flushed pink, and he’s breathing hard by the end of practice. He seems lost in thought when he notices me.

What was he thinking about so intently – Aimee? Agatha?

I don’t want him thinking about Agatha, it’s good that I distracted him. I hold his eye contact. I won’t break first.

The bastard smirks as he breaks eye contact – ‘I won’, I think to myself before I realize what he’s doing.

He’s setting up a shot.

He’s aiming right for me.

**BAZ**

Simon Snow never ceases to disappoint.

He catches the ball before it can collide with his chest.

He bounces It on his knee once before kicking it right at me (good form – for a rugby player), I head it when it reaches me and it easily bounces off and lands on the equipment scattering the floor.

Is this flirting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if i ever type "Neil" instead of "Niall" because I'm simultaneously working on an 'All for the Game' fic and this is confusing me lmao


	4. Friday is game day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday's are for games and breaking up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of possible / attempted past abuse (sexual, physical, emotional)

**Friday, November 6 th **

**BAZ**

‘The sky is the same color as Simon Snow’s eyes,’ I think to myself as I gaze out my open bedroom window with eyes full of sleep. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet; it must still be early.

Today is a good day.

It’s Friday. Friday is game day.

I love football; I thrive in competition. I particularly love when Simon is in the bleachers. There’s always a 50/50 chance that Simon might show up, depending on the rugby team's schedule, but I know he won’t be there today since the rugby team is playing simultaneously. I don’t know why he comes at all since he hates me, but maybe he just likes football enough to ignore me. That can’t be easy though, I like to show off. I’m always unnecessarily grandiose with my shots when I know he’s watching me. I sneak a peek at him sometimes, after scoring when I know he’s there. Sometimes I swear I catch him smirk or smile … maybe he just _really_ likes football.

I also have a calculus quiz today, as we do every Friday on the content covered that week. Penelope and I shared notes last night.

Most of all, today is a brilliant day because I finally get to be a single man again (however temporary). In nine hours, the relationship duration ends, and I get two and a half days to myself before I am subjected to yet another ‘relationship.’ This last week dating Aimee has been an absolute nightmare. Give a drama queen nothing to lose, and she becomes a tyrant. Aimee knew that the relationship had an expiration date and that I wasn’t willing to change my mind. Still, she also knew that I couldn’t break up with her before the week was done, and I had to fulfill the basic terms of boyfriend requirements, so she was as clingy and demanding as possible.

Of course, I could just admit that this isn’t for me. I could admit that I keep encouraging Dev to put his feelings out there when I can’t do that myself. It’s nowhere near the same thing because I know that the subject of his affection is literally in love with him – but he doesn’t know that.

My alarm finally goes off. As I check my phone to put it off, I see Dev and Niall's texts on our group chat. Speak of the Devils.

> _** Minions  ** _
> 
> _**(23:56) Niall:** Give me a lift tomorrow? GOT NEWS!!_
> 
> _**(05:51) Dev:** Baz will drive – sore from practice. _
> 
> _You better deal with that before the big game!_
> 
> _We need a win today._
> 
> _I’ll drive._

_***_

* * *

**SIMON**

Today is a terrible day.

I’m up at 4 am because if I’m any later, my new foster parents’ _real kids_ hog the bathroom – and if I’m late today, I’ll miss my first-period quiz in biology.

And, If I miss or fail _anything_ , I’ll be benched from rugby; my only outlet. The only thing I’m good at.

Although, how far that really matters, I’m not sure since I’m sitting out today’s game anyway.

I’ve been in this foster house for only a few days, so this is the first game day I’ve been here for. They’ve imposed a curfew of 8 pm, which wouldn’t be a problem except that Friday is game day, the matches only start at 7 pm, and the school is a 20-minute walk away.

It’s impossible.

I don’t know how long I’m going to be in this house, and it’s not the worst house I’ve been in, so I’m not sure if I’m hoping to leave … but if I keep sitting out games, I’m bound to lose captaincy and get kicked off the team anyway.

I revise my biology notes while I nibble on a banana, letting time pass me by. As soon as it’s a reasonable time to leave home - 6 am exactly - I grab my earphones and start walking to school.

This home is by no means terrible. I’ve experienced terrible.

But, they have their own kids. It doesn’t feel like _my_ home. 

I leave every morning at 6 am, and stroll in at 5 minutes to 8 pm, daily. I don’t disrespect them by breaking curfew, but I don’t stay in their personal space longer than necessary.

***

* * *

**NIALL**

I text Baz privately asking him to pick me up before we fetch Dev. I need to talk to my best friend, the one I’m not in love with, alone for a minute. I’m still spiraling out of control when I see the Porsche pull up.

I greet Baz as I jump into the passenger seat, we head back the way Baz came, towards Dev’s house.

“Actually, do you think we could do a round around the neighborhood…slowly…before we stop at Dev’s?”

“spill.” Baz dictates, slowing down so we’re almost creepily cruising the streets at 7 am.

“Matthew asked me to be his boyfriend.” I’m watching his reaction. He raises both his eyebrows in interest, but he doesn’t seem particularly surprised.

He responds after a moment, selecting his words very carefully, “he’s a nice lad, undeniably besotted … do you have an answer for him? have you answered him already?” he arches his eyebrow at me. He would probably look intimidating if we didn’t decide to become best friends in the first grade after I pushed a kid down the stairs for calling him “Tyrannosaurus”.

I sigh. “He treats me well, Basil.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he says kindly, “but do you love him?”

“It’s still soon for love. I like him …. I could love him, with time, I think …”

“You can’t force yourself to love him just to get over Dev, Niall. He deserves to be someone’s first choice. And you deserve the happiness your heart wants. And Dev… he deserves to at least make the choice, or at least to know that he has one! He doesn’t even know that you’re an option. At least tell him that much, before you give up on him”

“He’s straight, Basil, I’m not going to pressure him into a sexuality crisis, that’s not what you do to someone you love.”

“If he isn’t interested, he’ll say so, admitting your feelings isn’t pressuring him into homosexuality”

“I don’t want him to try just so he doesn’t hurt me! I don’t want to lose my best friend by being greedy and asking for more. Stop pushing, Tyrannus.”

**BAZ**

I sigh. I wish I could just tell him.

But I wouldn’t want anyone else kicking me out of the closet before I was ready.

He's at the end of his rope with me though - he used my first name. 

“Niall,” I say softly, “I’m your best mate. You know I’ve always only had your best interest in mind,” we’re slowing down at Dev’s driveway now. We can’t waste any more time without being late to practice, “trust me. Don’t give up on Dev just yet.”

Niall sighs. “Matthew … he makes me happy.”

“Does he make you not love Dev?”

A sad smile. He shakes his head.

“Then he also deserves to be someone’s first choice. Not to be settled for, when your heart belongs to another.” He’s silent. “Look,” I proceed, “don’t get rid of Matthew. But just … maybe don’t make any serious decisions while you still love Dev.”

Our conversation is cut short by Dev prancing down to the Porsche. I take a moment to marvel at my cousin's impeccable paisley shirt. I’ll be borrowing it. In truth, we have absolutely no reason to be so dressed up on a day when we have practice and a game, but Dev and I are nothing if not voguish. My shirt is Gucci.

“what’s up, my men” Dev sings as he hops into the back-seat ruffling both our hair, earning a smirk from Niall, and a glare from myself. “What’s this news?” he says looking at Niall in the rearview mirror, “have you finally heard back from Pari’?”.Niall’s dream is to go to Paris (he’s part French but he’s never actually been to France). He’s applied for student loans, and both on- and off-campus residence; as long as he gets accepted in any of the France universities for next year he’s off, but his favorite and first choice is the University of Paris. He’s been nervous about hearing back from them from when he applied, months ago.

It’s sweet that Dev remembered.

Niall twists around so his cheek is resting on the seat while he looks at Dev, “not yet, my application is still pending… Matty asked me to date him,”

I try to catch Dev’s eye in the rearview mirror but he’s entirely focused on Niall.

“and how do you feel about that?”, he says too slowly. Too much emotion. Too … afraid.

But I don’t think Niall noticed or comprehended it for what it was, because he too looks afraid.

“I don’t know as yet. I asked him for some time to think about it”

Dev smiles at him. A smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “well, we’ll support you in whatever brings you happiness,”

They’re quietly watching each other as I pull into the Sports Center parking lot – it’s not awkward, but it’s intense.

The bell chimes the hour, signaling the start of practice, and the last day of being Aimee Hernandez's boyfriend.

***

* * *

**DEV**

Apparently, someone has created a Facebook page dedicated to the dare. It’s called _‘Date Me, Baz Pitch!’_ and at least a quarter of Watford Secondary are following the page already. There’s not too much content on it as yet, but it does indicate that week ones' ‘winner’ was Aimee Hernandez, featuring a few pictures students captured of them throughout the week. Aimee asking Baz out during practice in front of the huge crowd she summoned. Aimee on Baz’s lap at the cafeteria (I didn’t even know this happened), captioned _‘Physical intimacy? Physical intimacy.’_ The most recent is a picture of Aimee in the Porsche (in _my_ spot) (well, Niall’s spot really) (when he decides to ride with us instead of _Matthew_ ), from when Baz was obligated to drive her home yesterday after school.

The page description promises to provide detailed updates regarding Baz’s weekly girlfriends (bold of them to assume it will always be a _girlfriend_ but okay) and keep followers updated on the latest gossip regarding the dare.

I’m not sure if I should be following this or not to be honest. Who even created it?

I send the link to the ‘Minions’ group chat, and after a moment of thought, I forward it to Penelope Bunce as well.

***

* * *

**SIMON**

The day is ending as Penny and I lounge on the stairs leading to assembly. The weekend is upon us. The pep rally is starting. I’m indulging in a chicken tandoori roti roll that Penny’s mother made for me (Penny’s mum packs lunch for me every day. I really love roti, now).

Penny giggles and I peer over to see her texting someone.

“Micah?”

“Chew. Close your mouth. Swallow.”

I do as told, “Micah?”

“no, Baz”

I raise an eyebrow at her, she laughs. “Not like that,” Micah is this guy she matched with on Tinder and progressed their conversations to instant messaging, it had better not be like that. “Baz texted; _‘Dare Chancellor: am I to break up with Aimee? or are we in a mutual understanding that our relationship has been terminated?”_

I roll my eyes, he’s so dramatic. “well, is he? Are they?”

“I think it’s more expired than terminated.”

Our friend Shepherd calls Penny over and she leaves me for a moment. I watch her go. Shepherd fancies Penelope, I think. And she seems fond of him, but she’s also been talking to Micah for a while, so…I’m not entirely certain where her feelings genuinely lie right now. Knowing Penelope, she’s probably not planning on committing to anything other than academics since we’re almost high school graduates and we’re college hunting right now. if she did get a boyfriend right now, I fear she might just ... forget that he exists until he dies of old age. 

I’m done eating. I ball up my foil, tossing it at the bin. I miss. I notice a shadow looming over me a moment before I register who it is.

“well thank goodness you’re not captain of our basketball team, it would be suicide.” We don't even _have_ a basketball team, who even _plays_ basketball. 

I roll my eyes and turn to him. “Pitch.”

He’s wearing a maroon shirt that’s open three buttons. His skin looks startlingly pale against it. His hair is in his face today, fluttering in the breeze. His arms are crossed against his lean yet muscled chest as he judges me, sleeves buttoned below his elbows. He looks like he’s in an ad for expensive watches – even though he isn’t wearing one.

I hate him.

“Snow.” He acknowledges, “where’s your better half?”

I clench my teeth, “left me for you, but you knew that.”

**BAZ**

I’m puzzled. Then it dawns on me. I chuckle, “I was talking about Bunce, but good to know that the rugby team's golden boy can’t keep a woman” I tease, “does this mean that Wellbelove will be at my game tonight instead of yours?” I cock an eyebrow. I’m trying to rile him up. Sometimes I push him too far, and he pushes back physically. Sometimes it gets rough. Sometimes it even hurts. But those few moments are the only time I have his undivided attention. The only time that all he’s thinking about is me – even if it’s about how much he hates me. I want to see him angry; I want to see him get rough. I want him to lose control, I want to be the cause of it. I want his love, but I’ll settle for his hate if it’s all I can get. I will not fade into the background. I’ll have his unrelenting passion, one way or another.

“Neither.” He says, clearly getting agitated - he’s clenching his teeth. “She just made the women’s lacrosse team, so she has her own game,” there’s a hint of pride in his voice. He looks away, “I’m not playing today anyway”. He mumbles that last bit, almost like I’m not supposed to hear it.

“why not?” I raise an eyebrow at him, “don’t tell me you’re so heartbroken you can’t function without Wellbelove. If that’s the case I promise not to date her for at least 3 months,” I smirk at him, “unless she asks, of course. Preferably on a Monday”

He groans, loudly...it’s a gorgeous sound.

“Do you always need to be such a fucking twat?”, he’s pulling his hair, it’s positively arousing.

“Can’t handle it?” I’m getting in his space now, challenging him.

He doesn’t back down. Simon never does.

I can push him, he'll just push back harder. 

“I can handle you, Pitch”

Not a doubt in his voice. Don't you realize what you're doing to me?

There’s hardly any space between us now and I’m sure he’s going to throw a punch any minute, but all I can think about is his spicy scent and the fact that there’s a lighter shade of freckles under his darker freckles, Which I can only see up close, like this.

Before I can get another word out, though, someone clears their throat and we both startle.

Bunce.

It is not the time.

Bunce starts leading him away from me.

“don’t lose today”, he tosses at me over his shoulder before they disappear into the thickening crowd, heading to the pep rally. It almost feels like a ‘Good luck’.

* * *

Three minutes after the game starts, I score. Someone spears me into a celebratory hug as I catch Dev's eye in the goalpost and we smirk at each other – I know I won’t see Simon today, he’s at his own game.

Blue eyes. Blue eyes catch mine, and they’re so familiar I almost think it’s Simon for a moment. But they’re not at their usual spot at the top of the bleachers, they’re trailing along the outskirts by the exit. Why would he be here? There’s a rugby game. He's literally the captain. 

The whistle signals that I need to get my head in the game. A few minutes later, the ball is heading towards our goal and I let the defenders and Dev do their job, I try to catch the blue eyes again.

I see bronze curls walking away from me. I’m almost certain it’s Simon now, but it doesn’t make sense.

I need to get my head in the game.

***

* * *

**SIMON**

I asked coach Rooney if I could play the first half and then leave. If I skip the post-game shower and immediately sprint to the foster house, I might just make curfew.

He said I cannot.

Coach asked why I can’t play a full game, he asked if I have commitments I put before the team, which as captain, I should not. I said that there was nothing I put before the team, and it’s true. I’m at every practice, compulsory and non-compulsory alike. I try my hardest. I play like I have nothing to lose; because it’s all I have.

I got captaincy not purely because I’m the best performing player on the team, which I am, but because of the effort and commitment I put in.

You’d think that would give me some credibility, but Coach just said he can’t allow special treatment.

He told me to sit the game out if I can’t make it, so I had no choice. My vice-captain, Matt, will captain today. He’s a competent captain. If I’m being honest, the half-backs are going to feel my absence the most; I play fly-half position and my substitute, Alex, is hardly at my level. The other halfbacks will have to compensate.

Hopefully, next Friday's game will be during the 5pm slot. If I keep sitting out games, Coach will have no choice but to replace me as captain.

My only hope for a future with my background and means is for a college scout to be impressed by my performance. This curfew is ruining my chances at a future. Coach would probably understand and might reconsider letting me play half the game and then sub out if I explained the situation. Still, I try my hardest to not use the foster kid card for sympathy or special treatment.

I could probably talk to my foster parents about it … but I’ve only entered this house. We don’t know each other, we have no relationship for them to care about my passions and interests, let alone adjust their rules for it. I don’t want them to see me as ungrateful either. I may not be particularly fond of them – I don’t know them. But they haven’t locked me away or treated me as a slave. They haven’t starved me or raised their hands at me. They haven’t made inappropriate advances at me.

In a few months, I’ll be eighteen and then I’ll have either the burden or freedom to take care of myself. But, for now, I work weekends and save up every dime I can to afford residence next year if I don’t get a college rugby scholarship.

I need to figure out something to stay on the team and actually play, if I want to have any future at all, off the streets.

* * *

Since I’m effectively benched, I don’t stick around to watch the beginning of the game in case Coach sees me and thinks that I don’t actually have an important commitment. It might also be too tempting; I go into jock mode when I’m on the field. The last thing I need is to see my team need me, play a full game, deprioritize curfew, and end up back at the orphanage across town.

I don’t want to return to the foster house early though, so I head over to the football field instead. The games were at the same time today. I plan to watch the first half-hour and leave at 19:30.

When the players claim the field, Baz heads them out. Baz and I are enemies, but he’s also my favorite football player. I never really had any interest in football before. It was too tame for me. I was spying on Baz one day, just watching him to make sure he wasn't plotting anything. We had just become enemies back then and I didn’t trust him. he looked at me like I was something he could eat, spit up my bones, and use them to clean his vampire teeth. I ended up following him to football practice and I watched for a while, it was mesmerizing.

He’s so different on the pitch. Sometimes I feel like he hides behind his hair and his clothes, even his brains and brute, making sure you don’t really see _him_. Everyone knows Baz, but I can’t help but feel like we see what he wants us to. Like he shows us a shallow, stylish, smart, perfect version of him. he doesn’t show us _himself._

But when he’s on the pitch, his masquerade drops. He’s entirely focused, he’s graceful and fierce. Like a cheetah before it pounces into action. He’s formidable. Hypnotizing.

I’m not entirely certain if I like football or watching Baz play football (he missed a day of school when he got his wisdom teeth removed last year, I went to watch practice and It was very boring. I left after ten minutes). It’s weird since we hate each other, but I can’t help the feeling that I hate the version of Baz he lets me see, lets everyone see, because he’s trying to keep everyone at arm's length.

I often wonder about the truer version of Baz. The side that’s revealed when he’s on the pitch. I also saw him when Baz played violin at the musical last year. I feel like I wouldn’t hate that version of Baz. Who he is when he forgets that people are watching – or he’s too focused to care.

I’m lost in thought until I realize that Baz scored – the game just started!

I see him look at the top of the bleachers. I usually sit there, and we make eye contact every time he scores. It’s probably a coincidence because I usually sit at such a visible point. He catches my eyes as he turns back to the pitch, and looks again – to make sure.

He looks confused, I can't blame him since I was supposed to be at my own game right now – that is if he recognized me.

Dev saves a goal, let’s one in, and saves two more attempts.

Before I know it, it’s 19:25 and I decide to head out. I still have time, but there are at least four games going on at the moment and the campus is overflowing with students, families, and friends. I take a stroll to the foster home trying to figure out my next step.

**DEV**

We win, although the points gap is barely existent so I’m sure Baz is disappointed. I did my best to shut down the goal as much as possible, but the Ravens were worthy competitors and I still let 4 through. 

I catch up with Baz and tug on his hair in silent ‘good job’. He scored three of our five goals tonight which helped my job by giving me a number to work with. He pats me on the shoulder in a ‘good job, too’. I did stop at least seven attempts.

We’re leaving the pitch, heading to the change rooms when I see two heads of blonde hair speaking close to each other, waiting at the exit. Niall and his boy toy. The rugby game probably just finished a few minutes ago, I heard he’s Captain in Snow’s stead today. He’s all sweaty and flushed, using his shirt to wipe his face and Niall is checking out his abs. it makes me sick.

I look away. Baz is watching me.

“I think you should come out”, he says. That surprised me, I have to say.

I raise an eyebrow at him, “you come out!”

“I’m not ready to come out!”

“well, neither am I!”

He’s silent for a moment. “hypothetically, if the subject of your affection had to return those sentiments … how would you deal with that if you were still in the closet?”

“they don’t”

“hypothetically, it’s for research”

I scoff, “hypothetically if Niall loved me back then yes I’d come out to be with him, he’s already out and I wouldn’t hide that relationship, but he doesn’t so I have no incentive to deal with that right now, in college, maybe, like you” I exhale, and try to control my voice. I don’t know what Baz is going on about, but I know he doesn’t mean harm. Especially on this. “maybe you and I can come out together, bro-memories,” I say light-heartedly.

**BAZ**

_love?_

my eyes are rather large, I am quite stunned, “do you _love_ Niall?”

Dev casually starts undressing like this new revelation doesn’t change everything.

“yes, Basil. Close your mouth before you swallow a fly.” He’s being sarcastic to hide his vulnerability. Fuck. We really are related.

“I thought you were just attracted to him, I didn’t know you were _in love_ with him”

“well, I didn’t feel the need to give you progressional updates since this will amount to nothing”

“how long have you known?”

“a while”, he snaps. He’s almost done with this topic. I’m probably reacting insensitively but to be fair, this changes everything. I can’t be quiet anymore.

“come out.”

“what” he snaps, he’s getting annoyed at me now.

I sigh, “to him” I amend, “come out to Niall, trust me, brother. I would never push you out of the closet before you were ready or rush you into something you’re not comfortable with. You don’t even need to tell him that he’s the reason you’re questioning your sexuality, just … come out to _him_. let him know that you’re an option, that you’re not entirely straight. Before he says yes to Matthew and then you need to play the supportive best friend role”

“I don’t want to ruin his relationship”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m not even asking you to tell him how you feel. Just tell him you’ve recently been questioning your sexuality. Who knows, maybe knowing that you could possibly see him as an option would make him see you as one”

Dev shuts his locker and makes his way to the shower, “you’re encouraging me to build sandcastles in the air, Bazzy”

“trust me, Dev. Have I ever tried to hurt you?”, I respond. Dev and I are rarely this serious, that’s how he knows I’m sincere.

He sighs. “I’ll think about it. Coming out to Niall… either way, I’d have to come out to him first before everyone else…”

“exactly”

We shower and head to my car.

***

* * *

**NIALL**

Matthew and I are in his car. He's sitting at the driver's seat, seat reclined as far as possible. I'm straddling him, the steering wheel is digging into my lumbar spine - but my fingers are in his hair and his teeth are latched onto my neck. An embarrassing sound escapes my lips and I grind down against him, eliciting a moan from him. 

"you little minx," he bites me harder. 

I tug on his hair, bringing him back to my mouth as I kiss him harder, seeking entrance to his mouth with my tongue. He grants it. 

I take his bottom lip between my teeth in retaliation for the marks that are definitely forming on my neck. 

We're both panting. His hands find my ass and he _grabs,_ pulling my body flush against his. The kiss deepens and it's starting to get more sensual than sexual before my cellphone vibrates in my back pocket, under his palm, and startles us both. 

"Check it," he mumbles against my skin as he opens the top buttons of my shirt, "might be important." He's nibbling and licking on my collarbone. He pulls my cellphone out of my back pocket and passes it to me. I'm gasping as I unlock the phone behind his head and try to be coherent. 

> _**Minions** _
> 
> _**(20:52) Dev:** Niall, riding back with us?_
> 
> _Nah_
> 
> _I'm good x_

By the time I put my phone on silent, lock it and toss it in Matthew's back seat; I find that my shirt is sliding off my shoulders and my jeans have been unbuttoned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matthew is getting some.
> 
> Try not to start shipping Niall with Matthew instead of Dev, though


	5. An Abundance of Lily's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz's second relationship  
> Coach and Simon have a talk  
> Niall and Matthew have a talk  
> Baz does some lunges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters should get longer now that we've mostly covered the plot build up and gotten to the actual story. 
> 
> I'm thinking updates once / twice a week?  
> Maybe Sunday's and/or wednesdays?

**Monday, November 9 th **

**BAZ**

This time, I’m taken _before_ football practice.

I guess it’s kind of cheating - or maybe it’s a loophole, but I wasn’t where I’m expected to be when the first bell goes off on Monday morning. It’s no coincidence when Lily Fray catches up to me outside the broken water fountain by drama club and greets me with a playful wink and a “Date me, Baz Pitch!” the second after the bell silences.

I exaggerate a fake sigh, “well, if you insist.”

She smirks at me, I smirk back.

I ruffle her hair, “Okay, Fray, I’m already late to practice so I gotta go.”

“Thanks, Ty,” she waves and smiles as I jog off to practice.

* * *

Lily called me on Saturday, asking if I’d be okay with her asking me out today. I was kind of surprised because she’s never exhibited an interest in me before, but she assured me it was platonic.

“I don’t _like_ like you, Ty” she reasoned.

When we initially became friends, Lily discovered that ‘Basilton’ was actually my _middle_ name and that no one called me by my _first_ name, she decided we absolutely need to change that. I can’t say I mind the nickname. My mother chose the name Tyrannus, so I feel like she would have liked Lily too.

“I’m sorry – are we twelve now?” I smirked.

“It’s just that ‘dating’- ”, I could practically visualize her air quotes “ – you for the week establishes a level of popularity that I just don’t have, so I thought maybe … you hang out with a friend who isn’t going to bug you for a week, and I become noticeable to the dozens of guys who never noticed me before – but only if you think that will be fun, I don’t want to make this weird, you’re legit my friend!”

I couldn’t help but smile. Lily is adorable. She’s a tiny strawberry blonde and really quirky _._ We became friends because she’s in the drama club and Dev and I often help the music department during musicals. I wish she had more self-confidence, but she’s right that it would be fun to just spend the week hanging out with a friend.

“‘Course I don’t mind, Fray, but you’re tiny and they’ll bully you - we need to plan a strategy”

“The drama department is rather void of your usual crowd during Monday morning’s – or, like, ever - it’s right across the football field, too”

“If I show up in my kit, I can be at the department at first bell and run to practice while the last few lads are just finishing changing up”

“you sure you don’t mind? This won’t make things weird?”

“No, Fray, you’re saving me here. I don’t know who’s going to ask me out, but I know I can’t take one more diva. And you’re right, it would be good to hang out with a friend”

“I’ll be sure to trap you first thing Monday”

“Just remember,” I stopped her from hanging up, “anyone who hasn’t noticed you all these years doesn’t deserve you now. You’re too good for me if we were dating for real, so you’re obviously too good for any other guy”

“Obviously.” I heard the smirk in her voice, “Thanks, Ty,”. I hung up with a smile, and I knew where to be this morning.

* * *

I’m already in kit, so I jog to the field where my team is already running laps to warm up. I cut in when Dev passes me with a raised eyebrow, and jog alongside him.

“I see you, Pitch,” Coach rolls her eyes, “Two more laps for you”

“yes ma’am!” I wink. she rolls her eyes again, smiling. She’s fond of me.

“Where were you?” Dev enquires as we jog.

“Let’s just say that Lily may have mentioned that she would be at drama club this morning. And that if we happened to be together during first bell, she may ask me out. And then I may get to spend the week fake dating a friend, completely stress-free, while she uses the opportunity to gain some popularity,” I smirk at him. This is all his fault anyway.

“ _I am calling Penelope_ ”

“There is _no rule_ that says my friends cannot suggest that I stand in a socially secluded area, at a convenient time for them to meet me, in a mutually compatible location.”

Dev rolls his eyes; he knows he isn’t winning this one

“But no way – cute Lily from theatre or cheerleader Lily?”

“Cute Lily. I would _not_ go through all that for cheerleader Lily”

“Cheerleader Lily is cute too,”

“I don’t know, I’m just too gay for this,”

“hmm, speaking of that, I’ll tell Niall. Not about my feelings and things, just… that I’m not straight.”

“that’s great!”, the rest of the team are finishing their laps and waiting for me to run my last two before we head to our dynamic warm-up. Apparently, Dev is coming with.

“you don’t need to run the extra laps, Grimm,” yells Coach from the other side of the field

Dev fakes an exaggerated gasp, “We are FAMILY, Coach!”

We are. That has absolutely nothing to do with anything, though.

“it’s just… you were right, I need to tell him before I tell everyone else. I’m not obligated to come clean about my feelings for him but …he’s my best friend and he deserves to know. _He_ told _me_ way before he came out.”

We’re about to rejoin the team when we’re interrupted by the cheer squad commandeering practice.

“Attention!”, I wish someone would confiscate Aimee’s megaphone. And freedom of speech.

Coach tries to control the situation, but Aimee cuts her off, “Hernandez this is _extremely_ _unaccep_ -”

“- no need to worry, Coach, we only have a question for Basilton and then we’ll be on our way.”

Then she turns away before Coach can even respond.

“Basilton!” Aimee says into the megaphone although we’re only a few feet apart and looking at each other.

“what?”, I snap

“I’m dumping you.”

“We fucking broke up on Friday!” I roll my eyes. We didn’t really _break up_ ; we just haven’t communicated after I sat with her during lunch. I assumed it was because she understood that the rules of the game meant our relationship expired after the school day on Friday. Now I’m just confused.

“Language, Mr. Pitch,” Coach reprimands me but there’s a level of kinship – and dare I say, approval – in her green eyes.

“yes, well, I’m just making it official because Lily has something to say”

Cheerleading Lily, Aimee’s best friend, takes the megaphone and screams into it; (which is very unnecessary because the whole point of a megaphone is so that you _don’t need to scream_ ) “Date me, Baz Pitch!!!”, followed by a giggle that would probably make half my team swoon, but I just find severely irritating.

Lily isn’t a bad person. But she wants to _be_ Aimee. I find it hard to not grab her by the shoulders and shake some courage and independence into her by force.

I turn on my charismatic fake smile, “I’m flattered, Lily.” She giggles again. “Unfortunately, someone has already asked me, but good luck for next week.”

I turn to Aimee, “please get your team off the pitch now, this is football practice, not the Kardashians”

“ _what do you mean someone’s already asked you_! it’s not even first period yet, Lily is the first person to ask you so you either say yes or you lose the dare!” she seems minutes away from stomping her foot on the ground and throwing a tantrum.

“yes, it’s not first period yet. But first bell was some fifteen minutes ago, and someone has already asked me. I don’t answer to you, though. I do believe there’s a Facebook Page dedicated to the dare so I’m sure they’ll be posting this week’s ‘winner’,”(drama Lily would be proud of my efficient use of air quotes) “ Please leave now.”

I turn around and start doing impromptu walking lunges. Dev and the boys follow suit. We must look entirely bizarre, and Lily (Fray) is going to need some protection this week, but at least I’m one cheerleader without.

* * *

**PENELOPE**

Simon usually doesn’t sit with the rugby team because he’s been sitting with Agatha and I since before he made the team - but it’s generally voluntary. Today, there seems to be tension.

I ask about Friday’s game, and that’s when he tells me everything.

I knew he had moved to a new Foster house across town, but whenever I ask about it, he shrugs it off. He says they don’t give him a hard time and mostly keep to themselves … I’ve known about Simon’s endeavours in the foster system for years, so this new house sounded like a blessing.

But Simon needs rugby. It’s integrally woven into his emotions. I kid you not – the kid is genuinely happier on days he has practice, and he thrives off Fridays. But, more than that, rugby was supposed to be his ticket to college. To a scholarship. To some independence. He can’t sacrifice that … he’s not getting there with his marks alone. He needs this rugby scholarship.

And if anyone on Watford’s rugby team is getting a college rugby scholarship, it’s Simon Snow. He just needs to _play_.

“you should ask them, Simon. They seem like decent people; they haven’t really given you any trouble thus far. Just explain that on game days you need your curfew pushed back an hour. They can even come to the games if they’d like”

“Maybe … but if they think I’m asking for too much and they send me back to the orphanage -”

“– then you’ll survive the orphanage just like you did for the last 18 years. There’s just a few more months then you can get out of there. But you need to play so you can secure your future. Whether or not you stay in this house Simon, the one definitive thing is that in a few months you’ll be an adult and a rugby scholarship can secure you a future. You need to fight for it”

Simon shrugs. “I’ll see.” He takes a bite of the lunch my mum packed him, and I know the conversation is effectively over.

It breaks my heart that for Simon, “asking too much” is asking for a curfew extension so that he can play a sport in the hopes of securing a future for himself. I know the world isn’t fair. But sometimes I feel like Simon got handed the worst of it.

**SIMON**

Penny means well. Penny always does. And she’s right, too (Penny’s always right, even Baz knows it – and that’s saying a lot. They had different approaches to a problem in Mr Sakowitz’s class week Monday and on Wednesday, during the correction, they discovered that Penny was right. Baz admitted defeat – Baz never admits defeat!).

And she’s right today too. Missing a few games will allow me a roof over my head (that is not the orphanage – I hate the orphanage) for now, but in a few months I turn eighteen and I’ll probably be out of there anyway. I have no idea what will become of my life in a few months. But rugby may be able to help with that. Between my social and financial situation, Penny says she can probably help me lock down student loans which I can pay back later at the very least if I don’t get a full ride to college on rugby. But that’s only if I play.

I got captaincy because I play like it’s the only thing that matters – because it’s all I’ve got.

I need to get my head in the game.

If they kick my ass back to the orphanage, I’ll just need to rough out these last few months and make sure I get to college.

* * *

While I have my existential internal crisis, the girls make idle chitchat. I’m mostly zoned out until I hear Agatha mention Baz’s name.

I instinctively glance at the football teams table, and then the cheerleader’s table when I remember the dare – nothing.

“It was a _whole thing_ , Penny, I would _sell my soul to Satan_ to see her reaction when he _shut that down_ and then _kicked them out_ -”, Agatha is in complete gossip mode. I have no idea what she’s going on about but she’s passionate.

“Dev’s dog, Satan or the Devil, Satan?” I enquire at the same time as Penny contributes, “- surely that’s exaggerated”

“Both!”, Agatha says at me, before shaking her head at Penny, “na-uh, Veronica told me herself and you know how close we were when I was on the cheer squad, she’s a reliable source!”

“what are we talking about?” I’m just very confused.

“and then he just, fucked off and, like, squatted away or some shit and the whole team joined him it must have been legendary,” Agatha talks over me entirely.

Penny, apparently, takes pity on me and fills me in, “Lily Dominic asked Baz out for the dare during football practice, megaphone and all, and he said no because someone had already asked him and then he asked the entire cheer squad to leave…and did exercise or something”, Penny’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at the last bit

“wait so who is he dating now?”

Penny points to a table in the upper level of the cafeteria, at the corner. The drama clubs table. I can’t see who he’s sitting next to, but I see him immediately. His hair is pulled away from his face in a bun and he’s wearing a coral button-up shirt with white, fitted jeans. He looks like a flamingo.

I scoff, “Baz is dating a commoner?” I roll my eyes.

“Baz is dating Lily”, Penny smirks

“Fray!”, Agatha adds.

“Lily? Baz is dating Lily?” I ask Penny incredulously. Lily is my friend. She’s quirky and fun and nice, and she’s everything that Baz is not. He’s just going to corrupt her. The dare sounded like a ridiculous idea from the get-go, but somehow when he was dating the prospects (popular, diva cheerleaders) I had always expected him to date anyway, it didn’t seem as such a big deal. As long as he stayed away from Agatha, I didn’t really care.

But now it’s seeping into my friend group?

Now, people who are close to me, people who I have relationships with – they are dating Baz Pitch?

I need to do something about this.

He can’t just … run the whole school.

What does he want with someone nice like Lily anyway? What is he plotting?

“I’ll be right back,” I say as I get up from the table and head for the upper cafeteria, ignoring Penny’s protests and Aggie’s exasperation behind me.

**DEV**

Niall’s boy toy is sitting with him at the cricket team’s usual table, today. Previously, Niall, Baz and I would alternate between the cricket table and football table. But since Matthew joined the equation, Niall and he have been splitting their breaks between the cricket and rugby tables, only sitting with Baz and me about once a week. 

Today I’m sitting with Baz at the drama club’s table, though. Baz has to sit with his ‘girlfriend’ at lunch, and I’m also casual friends with the drama kids since Baz and I have been helping them with their musicals for a few years.

Anything to distract me from the way Matthew’s arm is possessively snaked around Niall’s hips.

I’m sitting next to Ricky, across from Baz who is next to Lily. There are about five other people at this table. It’s actually rather relaxed. The conversation is far more mundane than the usual conversation at the football table, but it’s relaxing. I rather like these people. They seem authentic.

Lily is showing Baz her cellphone and telling us that the Facebook page dedicated to the dare has updated that she is this week’s winner, as Baz reads off comments on the post and we all laugh.

“Regina Phalange said that we would probably make a really cute couple because I’m tall and you’re pocket-sized”

“she’s not wrong,” he says as he winks at Lily, who laughs. A real laugh. She’s not trying to impress us.

“Thomas Carter says that he had no idea who you were before this,”

“the point,” says Lily and Baz replies with “his own loss”

“oh, Donny from Lacrosse said he’s jealous of you,” Baz says with a laugh, a barely-there blush tinting his cheeks.

“better luck next week Donny,” I add. I’m only now figuring out my sexuality but even I know that Donny is as hot as they come. And Baz is a far more established gay, he can’t have missed it.

“Jackson from the rugby team replied to Donny that he’s jealous of me”

“Now we’re talking,” it’s Lily’s turn to blush

“Anything from Thing 1 and Thing 2?” I ask

“Aimee and cheerleading Lily have been uncharacteristically quiet. Also, remind me to buy the team pizza in thanks for backing me up with the lunges? Good men”

We’re still rattling off comments when Simon Snow walks up to our table. The whole Baz-Simon dynamic is confusing. I know that Baz had a crush on Simon in his younger days. I know that’s what made him realize he’s attracted to men. I never thought much of it. Simon is objectively attractive, and it’s not like Baz doesn’t check out other hot guys. But Baz never checks Simon out, at least not noticeably and he never mentioned him to us after he told us about his previous crush. For the most part you’d think that Simon is just irrelevant to Baz’s life… but I haven’t missed the way Baz instigates arguments with Simon. He’s never as much of an arsehole to anyone as he is with Simon. Baz hates when girls hit on him – it makes him feel like he’s being insincere by not just coming out. He encourages Agatha though – I’m certain it’s to piss Snow off.

Sometimes I think that Baz hates Simon for making him realize that he’s gay.

I don’t entirely blame him. I love Niall, in every way, but even I must admit that life was easier when I was oblivious and straight.

Simon approaches Lily and greets her with a hug, then asks if he can borrow Baz.

Baz raises an eyebrow at him.

This is what I mean; if it were anyone else, Baz would have just followed them. But it’s Simon, so Baz is going to be an arsehole.

“Can I help you, Snow?”

“Follow me.”

Simon turns around and heads to the lower caf, Baz on his tail.

**SIMON**

After closer inspection, I’ve realized that Baz’s shirt has a single thick, red stripe on one side. The material looks fancy, and soft for a button-up. His hair tie is pink and matches the shirt.

He looks pretty, I realize. But that’s not relevant.

I lead him to the courtyard outside the cafeteria, behind the water fountain so we can have some privacy. He looks nervous.

“Can I help you, Snow? Frankly, I’m not in the mood for a rendezvous so get to the point”

I didn’t really plan this. I don’t really know what I mean to say. I’m not even entirely certain why I’m angry. Am I jealous? But I really don’t like Lily that way.

No, I just don’t like him spreading his influence.

“Why are you dating Lily!”, it’s a question but it verbalizes as a command.

“Because she _asked_ me, Snow. Do you even know how this game works?”

I guess I should have thought of that. Those are the rules. What am I doing here? Making sense of the situation hasn’t eased my urgency and anger, though, so I take it out on him anyway. Even though he seems just as confused as I, regrettably, am.

“why would she ask you out? You’re nothing alike!”

“what’s it to you”, he cocks an eyebrow at me. he’s challenging me.

“Lily is my friend, and I don’t want her getting hurt!”, well, it’s not false. It’s just that I just thought of it.

“she’s my friend too,” he gives me a very judgmental look, “and I’m not going to hurt her, we’re not even really dating. This is a game, not a real relationship”

“Just … don’t lead her on or anything. She’s kind. She doesn’t deserve it.”

I lift my chin, stubbornly.

“As I said, Snow, Lily is my friend too. I would never let anyone hurt her, least of all myself!”

He turns around and storms off.

I want to stop him and apologize. I want him to stop being angry. I want him to stop walking away when it took so much effort to get him here in the first place.

I don’t understand why I want these things.

* * *

After practice, I’m just changing up when Coach calls me into his office.

“Simon, I need to know if you’re going to play this week, or if I need to shuffle around the boys. I can’t keep Alex playing fly, it’s not his strong suit”

I sigh, “what time is this week’s game, sir?”

“Simon, being team captain means that this team needs to be a priority. Whatever time the game is scheduled for, you’re supposed to be there!”

“Coach I’ve always kept this team as my priority, you know that! Don’t I have any credibility after all?”

Coach sighs. “Snow, I can’t help you if you refuse to speak to me.”

I’m silent for a moment. Contemplating.

But Penny is right, I’m going to need to talk to my foster parents anyhow, so I might as well talk to Coach.

“Coach … you know I’m a foster kid, right,”

Coach is silent but he nods in understanding. Prompting me to carry on without interruption.

“Well, last week I was relocated to a new foster house,” I see his face fall in shame. He’s picking up on the direction of this conversation and regretting pushing me. This is why I hate using this part of my life for sympathy. He feels bad for me. “and they have a curfew of 8 pm.”

Coach put’s his head in his hands. “that’s why you asked if you could play the first half”, his voice is strained even as realization dawns on him.

I shrug, “it’s a twenty-minute walk on average, I thought if I play the first half and skip the shower I could run back just in time … make it work.”

Finally, he looks up at me. “Simon, I’m sorry,”

“you didn’t know, Coach,” _Please stop feeling sorry for me for my daily life. There’s nothing wrong with me._

“I’m sorry for doubting you, Simon. You’re right that you’ve always taken your position on this team, and then as captain, very seriously. I never should have doubted your motives… is there anything I or the team could do to make this work?”

“you could let me play the first half, sir,”

Coach nods. “I wasn’t trying to be difficult before, I really didn’t want the lads accusing me of special treatment. Sometimes I get students asking me for the night off to meet their girlfriend or go to parties,” he rolls his eyes, “but we’re also a family on this team, and we help each other. Simon, would you be okay if we spoke to the team about this? I’d need their acknowledgement to make something like this work without hiccups”

It’s disheartening, but it’s more hope than I had before practice. “okay, Coach.”

Coach nods. I start getting up when coach stops me again, “Actually, Simon, that’s not the only reason I called you back here,”

I raise an eyebrow

“You’re failing biology.”

I’m on my feet. I’m ready to protest. “I passed that quiz!”

Coach dramatically exhales, as he pulls out my biology quiz paper, “you got 52%”

“as I said, I _passed,”_

“Simon, Mrs Norris said that the class average for this test was 76%, this was a fairly easy test and you just barely passed, if it was a little harder, you wouldn’t have. Listen, Simon, I know you’re dealing with a lot. But at this rate, you might fail the exam, which is just before playoffs!

You’re fighting so hard for your spot on this team, for your position as captain, do not make me bench you because you failed fucking biology!”

I’m pouting. But even I know the rules of joining extracurricular clubs at Watford.

“I’m not benching you; I’m warning you. If you keep your head above 50% all semester, brilliant. But this is a warning that if you’re barely passing an easy test, you need some help to pass the exam”

“help?” I raise an eyebrow at him

“there’s a student who provides tuitions, he’s produced excellent results”

“Can’t I just ask Penelope for help?” That’s how I tackle all curveballs life throws at me.

Coach furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “Does Miss Bunce take Biology?”

“Uhm, no, she takes Geography,”

Coach gives me an unimpressed look. I sigh, defeated. “who’s the kid?”

“Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

**BAZ**

Practice goes well for the most part. I’m exhausted, I’ve pushed the boys harder than usual today; last week’s point gap was virtually nonexistent. We’re playing the Bearcat’s this week, who are slightly more competent than last week’s Ravens, I don’t want them getting any ideas. We’ve only lost one game this season, and that was because Dev wasn’t in our goal (he was sick). We are _not_ losing a game with our best squad. Not whilst I am captain, at least.

I’m heading off to the shower’s, Dev a few steps behind me (he’s really tired) when I see blue eyes staring me down from the bleachers. I smirk. He’s here more often than not – not sure why. I was too focused to look for him today, so I didn’t even put on a show… but his gaze is as intense as ever.

I’m a little hesitant to acknowledge him after our argument. What he said hurt. I hate that he always sees me as a bad person. I hate that I’ve given him reasons to. But he’s here. I’ll act like it doesn’t bother me that he can’t think of any reason someone he admires would find me good enough to date.

“I must say, Snow, I admire your commitment to attend football practice, when you didn’t even attend your own match. Having a change of heart, are we? Tryouts are closed for this year, try again next year”

Simon rolls his eyes, “I’m not switching sports, Pitch. But actually, that’s sort of why I’m here. I don’t still want to be here next year, and I definitely don’t want to give up rugby.”

His tone is all-business no-bullshit. I’m caught off guard but intrigued.

I give Dev a look that (hopefully) communicates ‘go on, shower and get out of here. Don’t wait for me.’

I think it works because Dev jogs the space between us. He lays a hand on my shoulder as we pass each other, “you’re tutoring in like 20 minutes”, he reminds me. I know, but he’s a good friend.

I nod. He jogs off to shower.

“what are you rambling on about, Snow”

He takes a deep, slow breath. Exhales just as slowly.

“I need you to tutor me in biology, so I don’t get kicked off the rugby team”

I just stare at him. I kind of want to laugh, but none of this is funny. It’s just that this is one of the scenarios younger-me had imagined, lying in bed at night, for how I would get close to Simon on my terms. In my element, where I wouldn’t fluster and start being an arsehole (like I do literally every time I speak to him). Those fantasies always ended in porn, so.

I don’t think he means ‘tutor me’ as in ‘tutor me on how to give a blowjob’, so I try to contain myself.

I can’t imagine spending a solid hour with Simon, frequently.

Merlin and Morgana, you cannot expect me to spend a solid hour with Simon and be coherent enough to share knowledge. Really, this is just testing my gayness.

I sigh. “Simon. You hate me.”

“As do you,” _I really don’t. it’s just easier to be mean than to tell you I think you’re pretty. It’s easier making you hate me than letting myself be vulnerable._ “but… I do need your help. I… I can admit that much.”

He does admit it. And he looks extremely ashamed as he does. He’s staring at the bench in front of him, avoiding eye contact. I hate this, there’s nothing to be ashamed of for asking for help.

I wish I could tell him so. The words get caught in my throat.

“I don’t mind helping you. But I’m already booked every day, and our free periods would clash with each other’s practices. I need the evenings for my homework and studies and to prepare my tutoring notes for the following day. The only day I don’t tutor is Friday’s and that’s because I have games. And, well, you do too.”

His face falls. It breaks my heart because I’m sure he really wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of voluntarily spending one-on-one time with me for any amount of time. I’m sure he never wanted to admit that he needs my help.

‘It’s okay.” He says. He laughs, a bitter sound, void of any humour. “I told him you wouldn’t help me”

That irritates me. “told who?” I snap.

“Coach. I told him you wouldn’t want to help me. he said I had to at least ask”

“Snow, it’s not that I don’t _want_ to help you. I’ve already committed to my preexisting weekly tutor sessions, one of which I’m going to be late for in a few minutes, and I just don’t think I have the time”

He hums what I assume to be an acknowledgement and starts to turn around.

I feel like I’m breaking some fragile thing … which is ridiculous because the only thing between us is distrust and animosity.

“weekends,” I say, quickly before he can shut the door on my chance to get to know him. My chance to let him know me. To let him see that I’m not the monster he’s written me off as, or at least I try not to be.

“hmm?”

“my weekdays are full. I can tutor you Saturday and Sunday.”

“oh!”, he looks genuinely surprised, “that would be … brilliant.”

“What time? Do you have any commitments on the weekends?” I’m usually very strict about scheduling my tutoring sessions when it’s the most convenient for my schedule. That’s why they’re generally after practice and not in my free period. The students I tutor generally wait the hour after last period while I’m at practice, and then I meet them at the library for an hour of tuitions after I shower and change up. But I know Simon is a foster kid and I don’t really know what that entails. My weekends aren’t really scheduled, I just have violin practice and I study, both which I can move around.

“Uhm,” Simon stumbles over his words a lot, “well, I work on weekends. But I can move around my shift, that’s fine, when is it convenient for you? you’re really saving me here.”

The prospect of ‘saving’ Simon Snow shouldn’t make my cold heart feel so many things.

“what shift do you usually work?”

“late shift, twelve to eight.”

“that’s fine, we can work in the mornings. I prefer working in the morning anyway”

“where?”

“where do you work?”

“the Starbucks off Madeline drive”

“is it quiet enough to study there?”

“yeah, if we go to the upper level.”

“that’s perfect then. 10 am?”

“yes, uhm… what are your, rates?”

“Pardon?”

“how much do you charge for tuitions?”

I don’t actually want to charge Simon anything. I generally charge the rich kids. I know Simon isn’t rich. I know he’s working, so he can make up the money to pay me, but I also know he’s working for a reason. I don’t know too much about the life of a foster kid, but I don’t think it’s easy and financially comfortable. But I know the idiot in front of me won’t take anything for free.

“let’s see how much help you need, and we can negotiate after our first lesson on Saturday”

“yeah, okay,” he’s smiling at me. I don’t think he’s ever smiled at me. it’s like looking into the sun.

So, I guess I’m not entirely over him then.

“see you Saturday, Snow.” I throw him a two-fingered salute and jog off to the change rooms. I’m definitely going to be late to tutor Sebastian.

* * *

**NIALL**

We’re hanging out at Off the Wall when Matthew ruefully approaches the topic again. Really, I should be flattered that such a sweet guy wants to be my boyfriend. I am. But my heart has belonged to Dev for so long … I’m not sure if I can even picture it.

We’re in a corner booth, my back against the wall and his against the backrest. Both my legs are draped over his lap, I’m sitting adjacent to the table with my left elbow leaning against it.

he’s telling me about their game on Friday. He wanted me to come watch, but I told him I always watch Baz and Dev’s games if my cricket games aren’t at the same time. Thus far we’ve been hanging out, going on almost-dates, making out … but we weren’t exclusive. There were no obligations. I didn’t need to feel bad for blowing off his request for my friends if anything I was just being a good friend. I just happen to also be in love with one of those friends.

He was disappointed when I rejected him of course, it was his first game as captain.

He has naturally pouty lips, so when he’s actually pouting, it’s adorable.

“I don’t know what Simon’s deal is,” he says, while absent-mindedly rubbing a hand across my thigh, “but as long as he’s bailing – I’m captain.”

I smile at him, “I’m sorry you lost your first game as captain”

He shrugs, “maybe we’d do better next week if I have a lucky charm in the stands,” he winks.

I roll my eyes. I do want to go to his games. But I don’t want to get too boyfriend-y until I’m certain about what I want.

I know my feelings for Dev are hopeless. I know they won’t amount to anything.

I can even tell myself to stop loving him. in fact, I’ve been convinced multiple times that I did stop loving him. Then he does something so familiar and domestic and … insignificant, like feed me popcorn while we’re watching a movie, or carry an extra jacket in his jeep for me every day even though I rarely need one (I stopped carrying my own hoodies once I realized), or remember that I’m in a consistent state of anxiety waiting for the school of my dreams to give me feedback… and I just…fall in love with him all over again.

Being friends with Dev is falling in love with him every day.

It’s getting your heart broken every night, but knowing it’s worth keeping him in your life anyway because he’s so protective of you that if he knew someone (let alone himself) was causing you pain, he’d never let them get away with it.

I can’t imagine not loving Dev. I find comfort in the torture after all this time. That’s probably unhealthy, but he’s my safe space.

Baz is my best friend.

Dev is my person.

Matthew is a sweetheart. And he’s sitting in front of me with my legs on his lap as I treat him (in compensation for the free rides to and from school, I say). And he wants to make me his. And I guess I could be his. I’m loyal to him now even, I don’t mess around with multiple people at once.

Maybe I could learn to love him.

I think I’ve been silent for too long. Because he’s regarding me thoughtfully.

“who is it?” he asks.

“hmm?” I feel like I’ve woken up from a dream. I got so lost in my head, I forgot he’s even here. That we’re here in this crappy diner together.

“there’s someone else.” He smiles at me. It’s a sad, knowing smile.

But I’m stubborn. I raise an eyebrow at him in a very Baz-like manner.

He sighs, “it’s like … we hang out every day and for the most part, you indulge me. it’s like youre mine on the surface but sometimes you zone out and I know you’re not thinking about _me_. any time I bring up anything hinting at us actually being … a couple, you retreat. I know it’s not that you’re not interested at all, I can see that you are. I don’t think it’s an ex either, you’ve been single for as long as I’ve known you, just the casual hook up here and there that never lasted more than a few weeks.” He casts a downwards glance. He looks insecure. “but I want this to last more than a few weeks,” he says, much softer. Far less confidence than before. “I want more, with you. But I feel like … like you can’t give me more because your heart’s taken.”

I never wanted to hurt him.

This was supposed to just be a meaningless hookup.

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was casual when this all started, that’s why I didn’t say I’ll be your boyfriend. That’s why I retreat every time you suggest something that … means something. I didn’t want to hurt you when I know what I can offer you.”

“there’s someone else.” He says softly

“not really.” I say, cautiously, “I’m not the type of person who dates a bunch of people at once. There’s no one else … but I am in love with someone” like ripping off a band-aid … “It will not amount to anything, and I know that … but I am in love with him. and it wouldn’t be fair of me to date you while my heart ultimately, and has for a long time, belong to someone else”

He nods. Slowly. Absentmindedly.

“who is it?” he says, softly

I shake my head

He nods.

“is that it, then? You don’t want to see me again?”

I give him a sad smile and scoot closer to him on the booth.

“I love hanging out with you. I love how easy it is and the fun we have together. The chemistry. I don’t want to stop hanging out with you. but if you’re developing feelings for me… then I don’t want to stick around and keep hurting you. I’d rather let you get over me as fast and easily as possible.”

He exhales a shaky breath. “can we still be friends? I don’t just mean it as a ‘break up prompt’, I mean it. I want to stay on good terms with you”

“I want to as well. yes, I want to stay friends,” I lean forward, and up a bit (he’s taller than me) and kiss his forehead. “thank you for these last few weeks,” I say softly, nosing his cheek, “you were amazing.”

He leaves.

I pay the bill and then realize I need a ride home.

> ** Minions  **
> 
> _Can anyone pick me up from Off the Wall?_
> 
> _If not, it’s chilled, I’ll take the tube_
> 
> _(16:31) Dev: you shall not._
> 
> _(16:31) Dev: on my way_
> 
> _Practice finished 30 minutes ago you must be home already_
> 
> _I can wait_
> 
> _For Baz to finish tutor_
> 
> _(16:35) Dev: on my fucking way._

Dev pulls up 20 minutes later, looking suspicious. I can hardly blame him, he ought to know I got here by means of Matthew. I’m waiting for him to ask; it’s been a few minutes and he doesn’t. we’ve both been silent since I jumped in, which is odd for us. There’s always comfortable chitchat to be made between us, or a comfortable silence. It’s never this tense.

I assume it’s because he’s waiting for me to tell him why I needed a lift when he starts talking.

“I need to tell you something - ”

Dev is cut off by my phone vibrating in my back pocket.

> _Incoming call: Matthew_

Due to my familiarity and the frequency with which I travel in Dev’s Jeep, my phone automatically connects to the Jeep’s Bluetooth. We initially set this up so I can play my music conveniently, and consequently, it meant that any calls I answered automatically played from the Jeep speaker for all passengers to hear, but this was never a problem before. We don’t keep many secrets from each other, in our little trio.

I briefly consider switching off my Bluetooth, but I’ve never done that before and I didn’t want it to seem suspicious.

I answer.

Dev glances over and clenches his jaw. He’s doing a really good job not exploding.

“Hey, everything okay?”, I say to the Jeep in general. It’s on speakerphone.

“hey, I’m so sorry I’m such a fucking douchebag I entirely forgot that you got there with me and that I was your ride back! I was about to drive back as soon as I realized but I thought I’d call to find out where you are since that was like half an hour ago”

“Nah it’s cool, no stress, I’m in Dev’s Jeep now, he just fetched me”

There’s a moment of silence before, “wait … Is he -,”

“- okay cool man, thanks for checking in bye” I cut the call.

Dev is raising an eyebrow at me.

I sigh, “what did you need to tell me?”

“it looks like you have stuff to tell me too”

I shrug, “it’s not important and yours seemed to be”

“it’s your feelings so it’s important”

I roll my eyes. I love this boy.

“I told Matthew that no, I will not be dating him, and he left, and only afterwards did I realize he was my ride. That’s why I called you.”

“well actually, you volunteered to wait for Baz to finish tutor and then make a 15-minute drive here”, this seems to bother him for some reason.

I shrug, “I could wait, I didn’t want to bother you when you were home already,”

He clenches his jaw again. Somethings bothering him today. I thought he was just mad at Matthew for leaving me stranded (he’s protective of Baz and me), but he knows what happened now. It was more my own fault than Matthew’s. “You’re not a burden, Niall.”

Dev is never this … serious. “Is everything okay, Dee?”

Dev’s expression is complex. “I thought you liked him … why did you end things?”

I shrug, feigning nonchalance, “he wanted more than I could offer.”

Dev seems lost in thought as he slowly nods.

“what was your news?”

He’s quiet for a few minutes and soon we’re only a few roads away from our houses.

“it wasn’t really important. Are you doing okay? do you need anything?”

I’m silent for a beat, “you’re lying.”

He’s silent.

“what’s bothering you Dev”

“What do you mean he wanted more than you could offer? Is this… is this about sex?”

I’m quite surprised, but I guess I see why he’d interpret my words that way.

I need to be honest with him. or, well, as honest as I can be.

“no, Dee,” I reach over and stroke his scalp, letting my fingers thread through his hair. It always soothes him when he’s stressed out. Dev and Baz, both, really like having their hair played with. “He wanted me to be his boyfriend, and I thought about it, honestly. I liked spending time with him. but what I felt for him … it wasn’t deep enough for me to want to be in a relationship with him. he felt more for me than I felt for him. I didn’t want to hurt him so I let him go, so he could move on.”

Dev is quiet for a while. The tension still hasn’t left his body although he seems slightly less … ready to murder a bunch of people.

“please tell me whatever you were going to, even if it’s not important. I’d like to know.”

He pulls up at my house. “tomorrow,” he says.

I look at the front door of the house I’ve called home from the time I was a baby. I think Dev and Baz also see it as a variation of a home, they’ve both slept over here countless times. It’s not as fancy as their houses, they’re old family royalty or something, I don’t know. I don’t think they even know.

But it’s still a nice house, and it’s more homey than either of theirs.

I can’t let him drive home and be alone right now. I don’t know what’s bugging him … but I think we both need each other tonight.

I definitely need him, even if it’s not the way I want him. I need the familiarity of Dev sleeping on the couch in my room, snoring quietly. I need his presence. I’ve been pushing him away lately in an effort to get over him, in an effort to replace those non-platonic feelings with feelings for Matthew.

It felt like a vital organ had been ripped out of my body. I’ve missed him like a life source.

“tonight,” I correct him, “you’re spending the night.”

I tug on his hair and then climb out of the Jeep. I’m a little shorter than him, it takes a little hop for me to jump off.

Dev is still in the driver’s seat, “tonight? I have no clothes and we have school tomorrow and I didn’t even ask my mum – nor have you asked yours –”

“ – like your parents are going to care once they hear you’re with me? they literally rely on me to bring you home in one piece, and my parents won’t care, and you can use my clothes for one day. Stop looking for excuses. Or we can drive back to your house right now, pick up an overnight bag and talk to your mum but we are having a sleepover tonight because you need to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

He sighs exasperatedly, “Baz?”

“I think we can make do without Baz for a while,” I’m feeling greedy about my time with him after I’ve had to restrain myself for weeks, “unless you need him? – should I call him, would it help?”

He’s watching me with a peculiar look his face. “I’m okay.”

He finally gets out of the Jeep and follows me into the house. We greet my mum and sister and let mum know that Dev will be staying the night. We make it to my bedroom, and I head to the shower, tossing soft old T-shirt and grey sweatpants at Dev.

It feels familiar. The sight of him in my bedroom. In my clothes. Matching my breaths to his as we fall asleep. I can’t lose this. I may not have as much as I want, but after distancing myself from him, I realize that he is all that I need. I can’t risk losing this by asking for too much.

He showered after practice, so by the time I exit my en suite I find him fast asleep on my bed. he’s wearing the sweatpants but he’s (gloriously) shirtless, hugging my pillow. He must be really exhausted, he said Baz really pushed them at practice today.

Mum calls us down for dinner but I know better than to wake Dev up when he’s asleep and being away from him right now is the last thing I want.

I yearn to curl up around him on my bed, hold him against my chest and go to sleep. But I restrain myself.

I cover him with the blanket, grab the extra pillow and a throw blanket, and head to the couch.

I feel more content than I’ve been for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was just a late night idea that I didnt really put much preparation into so ...thank you to everyone for the kudos and comments its received ❤  
> I appreciate everyone who gave this story a chance and continues coming back for more chapters. 
> 
> If you want to be friends, I'm on ig @sketchinginseptember


	6. Dev joins the club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DEV NIALL DEV NIALL DEV NIALL DEV NIALL DEV NIALL DEV NIALL
> 
> Penelope. Baz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I feel like... I'm really trying to make sure that Dev and Niall aren't OOC but that's super difficult seeing as they have like two sentences and maybe four mentions in the series. 
> 
> So what the fuck even are their characters beyond 'friends of baz'
> 
> 2\. PLEASE NOTE I do not mean to hate on any cheerleaders. Cheerleading is a beautiful sport, and I in no way mean to offend them. Aimee and Cheerleader!Lily are inspired by Sadie and Lissa from Awkward. But, I see how it can seem pretty stereotypical - it's not that all cheerleaders are frowned upon in this fic, it has nothing to do with cheerleading tbh. Aimee is just kind of ... a dictator, and Cheerleader!Lily tries too hard for Aimee's approval. The other cheerleader's on the squad are super chilled.

**Tuesday, November 10 th**

**NIALL**

Darkness.

Hazy thoughts.

It’s dark and quiet when I’m dragged out of unconsciousness, out of deep sleep.

It takes me a few moments to comprehend that Dev has me by the shoulders and is shaking me awake. What could this idiot possibly want? He’s still shaking me awake and saying my name when I mumble the question.

“I’m hungry,”

“Then eat,” I turn around and try to fall asleep again, but Dev won’t budge. He’s still shaking my entire body, whining.

“C’mon Niall, come downstairs with me I’m starving.”

“You are the reason we missed dinner,” eyes still closed, I mumble against my pillow.

He’s silent for a beat, and I almost think he gave up, when, “you missed dinner too?”

“Obviously,” I respond, “I wasn’t going to leave you passed out up here alone and go eat dinner”

He whacks the back of my head, which is enough to wake me up, “you should have!”

“I wasn’t hungry,” That’s not entirely true.

“well, you also haven’t eaten so we’re both going to get food, come along little one,” he has both my hands in his as he tries to pull me up

“That is the worst angle to try to lift someone; you have, like, no base of support to draw momentum from, let alone leverage and aah –” I’m cut off by Dev wrapping an arm around the back of my knees and tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Before I can yell at him, he’s already standing up and heading for the door. “Dev, you put me down right this minute!” I whisper-shout at him. I don’t want to wake the whole house. I also can’t afford to get a hard-on right now because he will definitely feel it. He’s ignoring my thrashing and we’re in the kitchen in a few minutes. He set’s me down, in front of the refrigerator.

“you bloody, devil!” I berate him as soon as my feet touch the cold kitchen tiles. When he lets go of me, I sway a little. He steadies me; holds on to my waist.

“What time is it, even?”

“Around 12, Happy Tuesday,” the bastard winks at me. The shirtless bastard. I’m only now realizing how shirtless he still is.

“Well, we fell asleep early, so… I’ve already slept too long for me to get any more sleep tonight,”

“Perfect, let’s eat,”

He’s still looking at me though, making no move to actually feed himself. I roll my eyes. “Dev, you know my house is practically yours, you don’t need to wait for me to serve you”

“Well it’s rude to open someone else’s fridge and rummage through it”

“A strangers’, yes, probably. We’re not strangers,” I shoulder past him and get to the fridge, fishing out the lasagna mum made for us last night. “What did you need to tell me earlier?”

He straightens at my question. I don’t know what this is about, but it seems to bother him.

A lot.

**DEV**

I don’t know why I’m scared. What’s he going to do, shun me for my sexuality?

If anything, I’m in the club now.

So why am I choking on my words?

My heart is beating faster, and the back of my neck feels like it’s on fire. I’m starting to feel dizzy. My stomach has dropped to the floor and the lasagna aroma taking over the kitchen is starting to make me nauseous. My previous hunger is gone entirely. Is this a panic attack? Or is this general panic?

 _Why_ am I even panicking?

Really, I have no idea. Niall’s not going to give a shit if I’m straight or gay or anything else on the spectrum.

Maybe that’s why I’m nervous? I’m not just coming out for the first time; I’m coming out to the object of my affection. I’m coming out to my best friend who I’m in love with.

If he doesn’t care, is that rejection? That’s hardly fair, it’s not like I plan to tell him I’m in love with him. Just the sexuality thing.

He’s oblivious to the role he plays in this.

**NIALL**

I sigh, “Dee,” I turn to him, taking a fist-full of his curls in my hand.

Unlike Baz; Dev keeps the sides of his hair short. But, the top is a crown of thick, dark, curls. Not the small, spirally curls. His are gorgeous; they’re big and wavy - like straight hair after you take a curler to it. He’s especially adorable with bedhead; the curls of his fringe falling into his eyes in disarray.

“– you know you can tell me anything, don’t you? No matter how big, or scary, or embarrassing. It’s me.” I tug on his hair with more force. Grounding him. My voice is softer than I usually allow myself with him. We’re always kind and affectionate, but I try to limit the amount of adoration I allow him to see, so he doesn’t figure my heart out.

But in this dark kitchen – the only light illuminating us is from the open fridge – I find it a little harder to restrain myself.

**DEV**

It occurs to me that this is my first time coming-out – maybe that’s why I’m scared?

Baz knows of course, but I never really came out to him. He helped me work through my feelings and figure out my sexuality, which’s different from saying the words to someone.

Come on. Like ripping off a band-aid.

“I don’t think I’m as straight as previously assumed,” I say.

**NIALL**

He says it so softly I’m almost unsure if I heard correctly.

Is this some cruel dream?

A late-night fantasy?

It wouldn’t be the first time, but it would be the most vivid.

The microwave beeping brings me back, and I realize that Dev has been staring at me anxiously for a few moments. I don’t know what prompted this, and I don’t know what this means – if anything – for me. But right now I need to focus on him. This was a big, important admission for him. I need to be the friend that he was to me three years ago.

This may be worthy of a personal freak out on account of my own feelings, but we can focus on that once he calms down.

I turn to him again. I smile at him and take a step closer, placing my hands firmly on either side of his shoulders, my thumbs brushing his clavicles, “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me with this,” I pull him into a hug, “are you alright?”

**DEV**

I crumble into his arms, my head in the crook of his neck even though I’m taller than him. My eyes are closed and I’m focused on his scent. My arms wrap around his waist and pull him against me.

We stand like that for a long time. Until the coffee machine beeps. Niall lets me go, takes a step back, and ruffles my hair. I realize that my cheeks are wet only when he cups my face and wipes them dry with his thumbs.

He’s on his tiptoes and kisses my head before I can register it.

“It’s okay, Dee. You’re not alone. I’ve got you,” he mumbles against the skin of my forehead.

**NIALL**

I have so many questions.

I need to talk to Baz about what this means about my feelings – the main reason I’ve kept them a secret was that I refused to pressure a straight boy.

I need to find out if Baz even knows.

What prompted this epiphany in him? Dev never seemed uncertain or insecure about his sexuality before.

Is there another boy? I’m not sure if I can handle that.

I have so many questions.

But none of them are as important as the fragile boy in my arms, quietly crying into my neck.

It’s true that he has no reason to be crying when he’s coming out to _me_ of all people.

But he’s figuring out his sexuality and that's terrifying. He’s coming into himself.

And his family is far less liberal than mine. Society can often be not-so-liberal.

He must be scared.

I want to protect him from the world.

I take his face and wipe his tears. I kiss his head.

I’m on thin ice, I’m being far too tender but it’s the only way I know to make him feel safe.

I just hope he doesn’t figure out that I love him.

**DEV**

The moment is gone as fast as it came, and the next coherent thing I acknowledge is Niall handing me a plate of lasagna and leading us to the table. It’s darker now that the fridge is closed, but we don’t feel like sitting in a bright room. We’re still silent as I switch my phone flashlight on and place it on the table between us. It provides just enough light for us to see each other. We eat in silence.

I love this boy.

**NIALL**

After we eat, we watch two FRIENDS episodes, and Dev seems to cheer up a bit after the second episode. We work on the homework we abandoned last night, together, and before we know it the sun is rising. I dress up as Dev packs his school bag. We’ll stop at his house for him to shower and change, and pick up a few things before we head to school.

We’re about to head to the Jeep when both our phones vibrate – Group chat, then.

> **_ Minions  _ **
> 
> _(06:17) Baz: I’m fetching Lily for school this morning – anyone else?_
> 
> _(06:18) Dev: no thanks – I’ll drive us._
> 
> _(06:18) Dev: slept over at Niall’s last night._
> 
> _Going home to change and then we’ll drive to school._
> 
> _(06:19) Baz: without me?_
> 
> _(06:19) Baz: Rude._

“Does Baz know?”, I ask Dev. We haven’t brought it up since the confession. He seemed emotional and uncharacteristically quiet. But I need to know if I’m keeping this from Baz – it would … complicate things.

“Yes. He’s the only other person who knows.”

***

* * *

**PENELOPE**

“It was brilliant Pen,” Simon says between bites of the lunch I brought him, “I expected more resistance on their part but Coach explained to them why I missed last weeks game and the curfew situation, and the whole team came together and agreed that I should I play the first half. Ethan even said that he’ll give me a lift back to the house as soon as I’m done so I don’t need to literally sprint home!”

“but Ethan’s on the team,”

“He’s a sub so he doesn’t play full games,” Simon says distractedly.

I smile up at him from behind my own sandwich, “that is brilliant, Si. So you’re still captain?”

“Well, we’re starting training with Matthew as co-captain,”

“how do you feel about that?”

He shrugs, “he’s not a bad captain, and it’s not like I’m even on the pitch in the second half. And if I don’t pass biology I won’t be on the pitch at all, the lads need another captain”

“so how are we conquering the biology thing? I don’t do it but I’m sure we can make do with videos and study guides, library study date?”

“Actually,” he says in a tone that makes me suspicious, “I’ve looked into the biology thing?”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Coach forced me into tuitions,”

Both my eyebrows raise in surprise this time. That’s a good plan. It’s just not usually necessary, I’m usually enough to get Simon out of his near-misses without outsider help.

We’ve never needed anyone else.

“Well? With who?”

He lets out a defeated sigh, “Baz”, he says softly. Eyes cast downwards.

“Baz?” I know that Baz offers tuitions but I also know Simon hates him, “you’re relying on Baz?”

“he’s brilliant, Penny”

“I _know_ he’s brilliant, Simon,” I say incredulously (maybe we should work on enhancing his vocabulary, next). It makes Agatha look up from her cellphone at us for the first time in 20 minutes, “I’ve been telling you that he’s alright for years, you’ve hated him for years and now you’re casually mentioning that Baz is your tutor?”

“what,” Agatha looks surprised too. This is probably awkward on her part – she left Simon for Basil.

Simon groans, “it’s not like I had a choice, okay! Coach told me I had to ask Baz and I did and he agreed!”

Agatha scrunches her eyebrows in confusion, “I thought you hate each other?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Simon who hates Baz,”

“He hates me too he’s just cooler about hiding it! And yes, we do, but he’s probably just looking at what he’s getting out of it, he’ll probably just use it as an excuse to be a dick to me for an hour while getting paid,”

“Can you afford his tuitions, Simon?” Agatha asks. I glare at her.

I respond before Simon can, “Basil told me that he doesn’t tutor for the financial aspect, it’s not like he needs it, he said it’s mostly because it makes his CV stand out when applying to colleges,”

This makes Simon scoff, "he already has the grades and the football and the music and the hair, how much more does he need to stand out," he rolls his eyes 

I forgot that Baz is even involved in music - he doesn't take the class. "I am _certain_ that your hair doesn't affect college acceptance selection," I scrunch my eyebrows in bewilderment. 

“he said that we’ll do the first session and then he’ll give me a price based on how much help I need,” Simon says to Agatha

“When’s the first session?” I ask

“Saturday morning,”

That gets my attention, “I thought Baz only tutored on weekdays at school. I specifically remember him saying that his weekends are for him, only. That’s why he even insisted that the dare only lasts the school week”

Simon shrugs, “he said that his weekdays are full already so we can do Saturday and Sunday mornings,”

“He’s giving you his Sundays as well?” I’m positively surprised, I glance up at Baz at the drama club table where he seems to be laughing at something Lily said.

“He’s giving me an hour, Penelope,” Simon rolls his eyes at me.

Somethings going on here. I can’t help but feel like I can’t see the whole board. Like I’m missing important pieces of information.

I hum acknowledgment at Simon, “well, anything that helps you is a good thing, Si. No matter how unconventional. Let me know how Saturday goes,”

***

* * *

**BAZ**

Turns out; sitting at the Drama table is far less dramatic than sitting at the cheerleader table, and I’m all for it. Lily and her friend, Isaac, are enlightening the rest of us on their Christmas musical, and subtly dropping hints that Dev and I are more than welcome to assist with the 'music' aspect.

Niall is sitting with us as well, today. Matthew is back at the rugby table looking somewhat somber. I haven’t gotten a chance to really talk to the lads today and find out what the hell is going on. We don’t have noncompulsory practice on Tuesday mornings, and they both arrived at school too late for me to even see them before the first period.

I had first period French with Niall, but I never got him alone to speak to him. That’s the thing about jocks. Pack mentality. It’s like football and cricket players have been gravitating towards us all morning. I practically feel cock-blocked, or conversation-blocked.

Niall has been roped into a conversation with Lily about costumes, so I take the chance to give Dev the ‘let’s go have a quick smoke’ nod. I need to get them separately.

When we’re outside, I light up two cigarettes and pass one to Dev.

“What’s going on?”

“Did Niall say anything in French?” Dev takes Spanish.

I shake my head, “didn’t get a chance,”

“I told him I’m queer,” he says around his cigarette.

I still, and look at him with large eyes, “And?! How did it go?”

He shrugs. “He was supportive. He doesn’t know he has anything to do with it.”

I nod, “Still. This was big for you. How do you feel?”

He exhales a puff of smoke, “This might not change anything,”

“ - Or it might change _everything_ ,” I cast a sideways glance at him, gesturing with my cigarette, “he still doesn’t have enough information to know he’s an option”

“I don’t think I have another big confession in me” Dev softly admits.

I nod. Dev got the ball rolling, I’ll just have to convince Niall into the last part. 3 “Well, there’s been a distinct lack of Matthew today so that’s a score”

“Niall dumped him; didn’t you know?”

That _is_ surprising, “He didn’t mention it, but we didn’t really get to talk today either”

I’m sure Niall is itching to explode at me about Dev’s new revelation.

The final bell goes and we’re about to head inside. “are you coming to the game on Saturday?” Dev enquires.

Since cricket is a lot longer a sport than our other clubs, their games are often on weekends, and rarely – if ever – on Friday’s with the rest of us. It also takes most of the day, so I usually only show up for a single inning. Preferably when Niall is fielding, so we definitely see him on the pitch.

“yes, though I may be late – I’m tutoring.”

Dev raises an eyebrow at me, “since when do you tutor on weekends?”

I sigh, “Snow might get kicked off the rugby team if he-”

But Dev cuts me off, “Woah Woah, wait, Snow? Don’t tell me you’re falling down _that_ rabbit hole again”

I can tell he’s going to be insufferable unless I appeal to his interests, “If Snow can’t play, Matthew is captain,” I remind him. Matthew is a good guy, but he’s never going to be best mates with Dev again.

“I have always felt that Snow was a brilliant captain,” Dev chimes in, with a false wistfulness to his voice.

“oh, you did?” I ask sarcastically

“yes yes, you know how important rugby is to me,” I doubt he even knows all the rules, “we need our best men out there, please see to it that Simon plays”

“mhmm,” I smirk at him as we head to the fourth period.

* * *

I don’t actually get a moment alone with Niall, but I get a call from him as soon as I’m done with tuitions. He updates me on the Matthew situation, which helps things get less complicated, and then proceeds to freak out about Dev’s sexuality. Thankfully, he never questioned why I knew first, nor why I never mentioned it to him. He understands.

But he still won’t come clean to Dev. He doesn’t think Dev feels the same way, and Dev won’t because he doesn’t think Niall feels the same way.

I may have been going about this all wrong. All this time I’ve been trying to get these morons to admit their feelings to each other instead of me. Words are scary, but they’re also not what’s important.

I need to let them _see_ each other’s feelings for themselves.

I need them to _show each other_ what they can’t say.

They’re _already_ in love, they just need to realize it.

But, for now, I have AP calc homework for tomorrow where I need to beat Penelope, I have a bunch of tutoring notes to prep for my sessions, and I have a blue-eyed demon (angel) to mentally (and sexually) prepare myself for in a few days.

It’s going to be an interesting week.

* * *

I slip into my silk pajamas (they’re the fancy kind with my initials – TBGP – sewed on the breast pocket), and call Lily once I’m in bed. Part of the dare is giving the ‘winner’ the full Baz Pitch boyfriend experience, so I call my dates before bed every night in addition to giving them lifts and sitting with them at lunch. It’s easy with Lily though. She’s been gushing to me about Lacrosse-team-Jackson for a solid five minutes without pausing to breathe. It’s so simple. So innocent. She doesn’t even really know him, but she can’t get him out of her mind. She’s ‘accidentally’ memorized his class and practice schedule and we’re discussing excuses she could use for why she suddenly absolutely needs to attend lacrosse practice, every day. It’s so jovial. So tooth-achingly sweet and innocent.

It almost stings. She has a crush on a guy and while she’s nervous about him finding out, it’s only for the fear of rejection. Only because she’s insecure that her feelings may be unrequited. Not because her feelings are considered taboo. Not because a simple thing like thinking a specific boy's eyes are pretty or dimples are cute, can change your entire reputation instantly. Or fucking 'send you to hell'. I’m almost tempted to tell her that I, too, can’t get a specific guy out of my head. _Unlike you, Lily, he does know I exist – he just hates me._ I wish it could be so simple to talk to my friend about a boy I like, as she is. I wish my genuinely innocent feelings weren’t some secret I need to hide.

Because these feelings _are_ innocent. I don’t know Simon as well as I’d prefer to, and although I _am_ lustfully attracted to him, the reason I like him is quite innocent. I watch him with his friends – how protective he is of the very few people he has in his life, and it warms my heart, it makes me wish I could be one of those people. One of Simon Snow’s people. I watch his passion for rugby (far more discreetly than he watches my practices) and it’s so fierce, the thrill is contagious. He plays like he has nothing to lose, and sometimes I worry he doesn’t. I watch him pull on his curls in biology when he doesn’t understand the labs we’re doing. And I watch him smile, shyly, when he got an answer right once. Even _he_ was surprised. It’s the small pieces of the puzzle that is 'Simon Snow' that I’ve accumulated over the years, that made me think about him a lot. And then fall for him. And now I’m concerned that I might love him. Well, as much as you can love someone you don’t genuinely know or have a healthy relationship with.

It’s like… potential love. I know I could love him If only I had a chance.

But this isn’t a world where Simon Snow would give me the chance to love him.

And so, I am content to spend my days loving the boy of my daydreams and night fantasies, from afar.

Well, until now.

Because, apparently, I can verbally harass him but I can’t turn him down a favor once he turns his puss-in-boots-eyes on me, so now I need to spend two hours a weekend one-on-one with him. This should be interesting.

This is really testing my restraint.

It's past midnight when I cut the call with Lily. I turn onto my tummy, hugging my pillow with both hands; and not for the first time, I dream of blue eyes and freckles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually kind of nervous about how this fic is going. 
> 
> I know the SnowBaz is burning mighty slowly... but they're still enemies right now and I wanted that to be realistic. 
> 
> I know that DeNiall seems to be more prominent right now, but that's because they're already in love with each other.


	7. This Precious Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some goddamn SnowBaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, a few things that belatedly dawned on me this chapter;  
> 1\. I don't actually know anything about the education system in England. I'm from Africa.  
> 2\. In this fic, Baz is eighteen and Simon is like... 17.5  
> 3\. they're both in their final; year of schooling before college  
> 4\. I'm not certain if the syllabus would be the same, but I'm drawing syllabus ideas for Baz and Simon's study date from the South African Biology syllabus... our characters are based in England (bc Carry On) but the syllabus may be entirely different, I apologize if that is the case.  
> 5\. I tried to at least be factually correct with this shit but even if it's not (and it really should be since I'm graduated with a biology-based university degree), that's not really essential to our plot. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Saturday, November 14 th **

**BAZ**

Starbucks doesn’t have a legitimate parking area, so I decide against taking the Porsche. It’s 8:50 when I pull up at Starbucks on my Ducati, my hair in a bun under my helmet. I bite on the strap of my leather glove and tug it off, shoving it into my helmet as I fish my wallet out of my backpack.

“caramel frapp, thanks,” the barista writes my name on the cup; _Tyrannus_ (I gave her my first name the first day I encountered her - to fuck with her because she was flirting with me, and I know it’s a pain to spell - now I’m stuck with it because she never asked my name again) and keeps shooting me flirty glances and smirks.

I’m usually in and out of here within a few minutes, but I take my drink to the yet-explored upper level where Simon said he’d meet me.

I’m over an hour early, but I need the time. I’m always prepared for my tutoring sessions; I have my own notes ready for them before I get there. I’m not yet prepared today. The first lesson with a new student is always crucial; it’s where I figure out the benchmark of their learning curve, where they stand, and where I need to get them. I asked Simon for his most recent biology test, which I retrieved from Penelope on Wednesday. This academic - and athletic - week was so demanding that I never got a chance to work on it. After yesterday’s game, I took the guys out for pizza— victory pizza and in thanks for backing me up after Mondays' predicament at practice.

I thought if I got here early, I could put together my study material and be ready before Simon shows up. I imagined he’d be a bit late and I could be a douche about it.

I didn’t account for the golden-brown curls that catch my attention in the corner window seat. I can only see the top of his head, but I’d recognize him anywhere. Simon wears his hair short on the back and on the sides, but the top is a thatch of loose curls. Brown with golden highlights. His curls are falling into his eyes and I watch as he distractedly pushes them away (maybe I should offer him a hair tie). He’s sitting on the ground like an animal, his back resting on the couch base. He seems to have quite a few books open on the coffee table in front of him, which he uses as a study desk.

I know he said it’s fairly quiet here, but I never imagined he’d come here to genuinely study. I didn’t expect him to be an hour early, either.

Before I know it, I’m walking up to him. There’s a bruise blooming on his cheekbone. I want to kiss it better. It’s not uncommon for the rugby team to be a little bruised up now and then, but I always worry about Simon when it's him.

He looks up when my shadow catches his attention.

The light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows bring out the gorgeous colour of his eyes – the same blue as the morning sky backdropping him.

“Baz,” he startles. I wonder if it’s because I’m early, or because he doubted I’d show up at all. “What’re you doing here?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “you literally asked me to meet you here, Snow,”

He looks at his watch. It’s a very ordinary watch, a bit loose on his hand. It’s not his size. “you’re kind of early,”

“So are you.”

He sheepishly looks over his books, then back up at me, “I was just studying …”

“Do you always study in a café?” I’m just genuinely curious, but because it’s him – and he turns me into a douchebag to cover up my inner vulnerability – it sounds more like judgment.

Simon just shrugs, “it’s quiet up here. And the windows don’t make me feel claustrophobic,” I’m pretty sure that’s the biggest word I’ve ever heard Simon say “It’s peaceful. I can… focus better up here” he looks out the large windows in wonder.

This precious idiot.

I toss my helmet and backpack on the couch facing him and settle down, pulling my study supplies out, “so you’re here every day then?”

**SIMON**

Well, shit.

I wasn’t expecting him here this early. I got here as soon as doors open – at 7 am – and intended to study until our session at 10. Baz said we’d negotiate his rates after the lesson, depending on how much help I need. So I figured; the harder I study independently --> the less help I’ll need -->the less he’ll charge --> the more money I'll have once I’m on my own post-graduation, y’know?

I mean, he’ll probably charge me more anyway because he’s a twat who hates me. But maybe if I’m not entirely clueless, I can piss him off a little less and he’ll keep helping me. Penny is right, I can’t risk losing the opportunities rugby can potentially afford me for a better life.

I miss the days when I played rugby because it was fun. An outlet. I had gotten on the team because I was good, but I didn’t really care about it so much. I just loved the sport. Now it feels more like a job. A means to an end.

Baz settles down across from me, his legs are parted and he’s on higher ground on that couch since I’m on the floor. I wonder if he realizes the view I have from this position.

I have no idea how I feel about it.

I look back down at my notes.

“no, weekdays I study at E block after school, by the water fountain behind by admin block?” Baz nods, “I generally spend weekdays either here or at Penelope’s, she has a porch swing! It’s really peaceful there too, her mother has the most adorable garden,”

“you like nature,” Baz observes the large pot plant next to the couch I’m settled at and the sky outside. I do, love nature. It’s calming. I find it a lot easier to calm my mind and focus on something when I’m surrounded by nature.

I simply nod and look back at my notes. Why am I sharing all of this with Baz Pitch?

He doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t even want to be here. His weekends are for him, and him alone. He said so.

“Why are _you_ early?”

“well actually,” he pulls out my test. The one coach yelled at me for.

The one I _passed._

“this week was hectic; I didn’t get a chance to look at your paper. I sort of already have a schedule and I didn’t have time as yet to make up my study plan for our sessions,”

I feel bad.

“-so I thought I’d work on my session notes before our lesson” he concludes.

“We still have an hour,” I rearrange my textbook and notes, so he has his side of the table clear.

Baz looks at me thoughtfully for a moment, nods and gets to work.

* * *

Baz’s pencil case is the cutest. It’s transparent with tiny purple stars. It’s odd that Baz owns such a mundane possession. I don’t know what type of pencil case I expected my arch-nemesis to have, per se, but I did not expect cute purple stars.

What’s less surprising is the expensive-looking pen he’s writing with.

I see him roll his eyes at something on my test and take notes in his notebook.

“staring.” He says. Soft, but clear.

“hmm?”

“you’re staring at me, Snow,” he raises his silver eyes to meet mine. “I thought you were supposed to be studying- am I really that distracting?” he raises an eyebrow at me.

He is, actually. Distracting.

Baz lounges on the couch with his left foot on his right knee. he unravelled his raven hair a few minutes ago and carded his fingers through it; it’s in disarray and he still looks perfect. He’s such a douche.

He smells really nice.

“I’m just observing your poor taste in coffee,”

He raises his eyebrows at me.

“you have bad coffee choosing skills.” I nod seriously.

“excuse me, Mr Barista,”

“ - I actually work in the bakery department but okay,”

“ - but are you hating on my caramel Frappuccino with extra whipped cream?” he clutches his chest, feigning offence.

I roll my eyes at him, “yes, I’m judging your diabetes in a cup”

He looks me in the eyes, “rude.” And then he slurps up the last remaining coffee and frowns down at his cup when it makes the ‘I’m empty’ noise.

I laugh, I like this Baz better.

I get up and grab his cup, “I’ll grab you another,”

“no I’ll go, I’m feeling for something warm anyway”

“I got it,” I say, walking away.

**BAZ**

When Simon gets back, he hands me a foam cup of warm liquid and settles down on the floor again with his own cup.

I’m not paying attention when he tosses a hand full of sugar sachet’s at my head, I glare at him and he laughs.

I like him like this. When he understands that my glares and bad communication aren’t actually malice. It never was. Simon Snow you simply make me too nervous to function.

“that’s already sweet though,” he says, “I didn’t know if you’d still want sugar”

“what is it?”

“Café Mocha,”

I smile at the cup. Simon Snow got me a coffee. Simon Snow guessed my favourite coffee order. Simon Snow got me extra sugar, just in case (and then he proceeded to throw it at my head – but that’s a very Simon thing to do)

I pull out my wallet.

“No, that’s alright don’t worry about it,”

“that’s okay –”

“No, Baz, I literally just went into the kitchen and made it, I didn’t even pay,”

I raise both eyebrows at him, “Am I drinking _stolen_ coffee, Simon?”

Belatedly, I realize that I called him _Simon_. In my head he’s Simon, but out loud, he’s Snow. I cannot risk him noticing the affection with which I say his name.

I guess I was a little distracted this time. _Simon Snow made me a coffee!_

He’s not even – technically – the barista!

“We all do it!” he reasons, “and not, like, all the time. When our friends come in we still have to either charge them or cover it ourselves, but we can take a free coffee now and then, it’s not like we’re stealing stock – it’s just ingredients”

“so, you took two coffee’s for yourself?” I smirk at him while I try to adjust my books on the table. It’s not working out, it’s a coffee table, not a study table. It’s too low.

“that’s why I’m on the floor,” he chuckles, observing me.

**SIMON**

Baz rolls his eyes and settles down on the floor across from me. His legs are a lot longer than mine though – that’s where his height his – and he’s having a hard time…arranging his limbs under the shared table. He tries to stretch them out but I can tell I’m in his way. He tries to position them, stretched out, to one side of me, before he just gives up and folds them.

I can tell he’s not too comfortable. I wouldn’t be, either, if my jeans were as tight as his.

“Daddy long-legs,” it's out my mouth before I can stop it. We both freeze. We’re silent for a moment.

I want to die.

**BAZ**

“What?” _What_. My voice is too high.

“it’s a spider,” he panickily defends himself.

“Okay,” I’m probably glaring at him. I don’t really know how to react, “What about it?”

I know it’s a fucking spider, but that’s not where my mind went when he fucking randomly spurted out _Daddy Long Legs._

“I…saw one,” he says, eyes darting around the room, “on the pot plant, behind you,” he nods, “wasn’t sure if you were a fan of spiders or not…thought I’d warn you…”

Simon's voice raises an octave at the end. Like a question. Like he’s begging me to just roll with it.

I clear my throat, “don’t really care about spiders,” I am almost certain that there is no fucking spider on that tree. “are you ready to start, it's almost 10,”

He nods, relieved.

* * *

“So, we have to cover the eight systems in biology, but our next test is on the reproductive system so I thought we should cover that first,”

Unfortunately.

It’s going to be awkward. There’s literally a penis he needs to label. In detail.

Simon is surprisingly responsive. I expected him to fight me a little more… but he listens to my guidance and tries. He doesn’t know as much as he should, really, but that’s the point of tuitions. He’s definitely not my worst student.

He tries. That’s the biggest thing. He knows why he’s doing this.

The biggest problem he has is remembering essay questions in detail, so I try to explain them to him. “if you understand the process, you don’t need to remember it word for word, Snow,”

“you called me Simon before,”

“I did not – you can just explain it. Like, you need to understand the effects of the female hormones, FSH, LH and Progesterone. If you understand what each hormone does in the body you can explain it and put it together in an essay. You don’t need to remember the template essay exactly,” he nods, “study for application questions. Read your notes and try to make your own – that’s what helps me, I set tough questions for myself so I know that the test questions can’t be harder – If you study for application questions, you can put everything you know together for an essay or simplify it for a short question,”

He nods. I ask him questions, he tries to answer. He’s mostly part right and I fill him in on what he missed out. I explain what he doesn’t understand. He’s attentive. 

I readjust again, these jeans are not for sitting cross-legged.

Simon sighs, “just come over here,” he scoots to the extreme left “then you can stretch out your legs,”

Having Simon talk about my legs…stretching… it’s really testing my restraint.

“you just want to peep into the study guide,” he doesn’t have his own so I’m teaching him from mine.

He’s really quite smart, he just doesn’t study using the right approach for such a theory extensive module.

I don’t need to keep repeating stuff as I do with my poorer students. Once I explain something, he grasps it quite fast. Really, its sort of a study session, not tuitions. I’m learning as I teach him, which I would have done today anyway.

He rolls his eyes at me, “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable for another thirty minutes, just stretch out your legs”

I do, they’re both on his left. He stretches his legs out too, probably to make me feel more comfortable.

We study. We revise. We’re only half done with the reproductive system when the one hour mark is up. I don’t know whether to tell Simon or not, but maybe he wants to stop?

“you have work in an hour,” I say instead.

“already?” he frowns and checks his phone lock screen, “oh, wow. I’ve never enjoyed studying for that long before,”

I shrug, “you’re really not that, Snow, if you put in a few more hours, and use the tips I gave you, you won’t even need me”

Simon beams at my praise.

“I’ll make you some flashcards and give it to you tomorrow, it should help you test yourself.”

“I’ve always known that you were smart,” Simon smiles, “but Baz…you’re a really great tutor”

I nod my acknowledgement and halfheartedly pack my stuff.

“So… you said you’d let me know about your rates after you figure out how much help I need” he reminds me, looking awkward.

I completely forgot that Simon is technically expected to pay me. It feels wrong to charge him. Really, we studied together. I learned while teaching him, and he didn’t really need that much help, to begin with. He just needed someone to explain the stuff better and show him easier ways to study.

He just needed some guidance.

In all honesty, if Simon had my study guide, he’d be fine.

I take a moment to think about that.

I shake my head at him, “honestly Snow, I expected you to need a lot more of a crutch than you did. Really, we were just studying together. I can’t charge you for that.”

Simon looks flabbergasted.

I can’t blame him; I’ve always cared for him but I have difficulty conveying that. From his vantage point, I’m an asshole who he wasn’t even sure was going to show up.

“Basilton,” no, that sounds wrong. “- you can’t just … not charge me! I understand everything so much better because of you!”

“that’s the point of group studying, Snow,”

“-you called me Simon before”

“You called me Basilton just now,”

“you can’t just... not charge me! This wasn’t a _favour_ – ”

“because it was mutually beneficial,”

“Because it was a _waste of your time_ , your weekends are _yours_ , didn’t you say? And you’re giving me time on a Saturday _and_ a Sunday and if you don’t give me a price _right now_ I’m just going to track down one of the other students you tutor, find out your rates and force-pay you”

He’s so stubborn. This precious idiot. It’s not like I even need the money.

It’s not like he doesn’t.

I shake my head as I stand up and stretch my sore limbs, “free coffees,” I say eventually. At his confused expression, I elaborate, “I’ll tutor you on weekends and you can repay me with free coffees whenever I stop by – as long as you’re on a shift of course – it’s not like Starbucks is _cheap,_ and really it's more practical for me. I’m not just getting paid per session, which is twice a week. If I choose to show up for a coffee every day, you have to give me free coffee”

“I literally only work weekends”

I roll my eyes at him, “if I want to a new coffee every hour of your weekend shift you have to give me, like, five free coffees a day. For as long as you work here”

Obviously, I won’t be doing that, but this seems to help him receive my help without hurting his pride.

Because really, that’s all I want to do.

I just want to help a boy I like.

Because I can.

Because he needs it and he came to me for help, and there’s no better way I’d like to spend my time than with him.

“Yeah, okay,” he eventually concedes, “but if you change your mind after a few sessions… if the work gets tougher and I’m needier, please feel free to charge me an actual fee. I want to pay you an actual fee.”

“I will.” I will not.

Simon calms eventually and smiles at me, “coffee for the road?”

“Snow, I’m an Englishman and this is my second coffee in three hours”

“I mean technically the first one wasn’t a coffee,” he rolls his eyes, “but come on, let's get some tea in you,”

“not if _I_ have to pay for it,”

“oh, you won’t be paying in this establishment for quite some time, Basilton,”

I feel my cheeks redden at the sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Baz canonically really love sugar or did I get that from fanfiction ???


	8. City of SnowBaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is this feeling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is largely inspired by The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones by Cassandra Clare (The Shadowhunters Chronicles)

**Sunday, November 15 th**

**SIMON**

I’m making my morning coffee when the Frappuccino cups grasp my attention. I _do_ owe Baz free coffee indefinitely. And if it’s the only payment he’ll accept, I’ll just have to hand him a coffee cup every time I see him for the rest of my life.

I still can’t believe he let me off the hook that easily. I don’t know what to make of it – I assume Penny will have a thing or two to say. I hardly expected Baz to agree to help me at all. And once he had, I didn’t expect him to put in a genuine effort to teach me – I _definitely_ expected him to charge me _more_ than his average student.

Maybe Penny is right, and this whole rivalry is just in my head? No. I’m not imagining his hostility towards me every time we run into each other.

Deep down, I note the possibility that his recent behaviour could be due to the ‘poor orphan’ card I never intended to play. He could just be feeling…pity.

The only thing worse than being hated by Baz Pitch is being pitied by Baz Pitch.

I wish he would just charge me a fee, but I think about what he said. That it was more of a mutually beneficial study session than tuitions. I guess that’s kind of true. I was already passing the module; I just needed his help to secure my head above water. And he did seem to be memorising a lot of content by testing me.

I sigh. I need the money anyway. I’m trying to save up every penny I can; god knows what’s going to happen when I’m not guaranteed a shelter and food in an orphanage or foster home. When I turn eighteen, I’m my own problem.

It's scary. But I’ve saved up enough in the last few years from working small and odd jobs to afford myself a few months of cheap rent and the bare minimum - until I can bag a better job with my senior education diploma. 

Of course, that’s assuming rugby doesn’t get me into tertiary.

Which is why these sessions with Baz is so crucial. I need to stay on the team.

And this way; it almost feels as if we’re…friends. I never thought that was something I’d want, but it’s suddenly important to me.

Penny thinks I try too hard to be liked by everyone. I never bothered about trying to get Baz to like me, but I’m suddenly nervous about the possibility of Baz walking in this morning, acting like nothing happened yesterday, like we were never getting along…acting like enemies.

Yesterday’s session went relatively well. It was a little awkward initially, but we fell into comfortable companionship once we indulged in biology – neutral ground.

He wasn’t even being as much of an ass as I expected. In turn, I didn’t need to be.

I don’t know why Baz is being nice to me as spontaneously as the day he started being a dick to me.

After spending time with him yesterday, I feel like I know a different layer of Baz Pitch.

It’s like when you’re peeling an onion, and every new layer you uncover makes you cry more. But the more layers of Baz I uncover, the more comfortable I feel with him. I finally feel like I’ve met the Baz who Penny has been friends with for years. The Baz who helps her with her homework and teams up with her on group reports so they can slaughter every other group in class. I like this Baz, even if I’m still learning the ropes with him. He’s a lot like my Baz, albeit tamer.

Or maybe…maybe he was always this way, and I just needed to be patient with him?

Perhaps I expected Mr Popular to be a dick so much that that’s all I saw in him.

It’s not like he was that different yesterday. The aura was just different. When I knew that I couldn’t fight him because I needed his help; I brushed off the comments he made that I would usually have been defensive of. Eventually, I recognised the absence of bite behind his words, and our banter became playful.

I hope that when we’re out of this unfamiliar territory... when we’re back at school and it’s easier to go back to being enemies to each other; that we’re still this Simon and Baz.

The versions of ourselves we found in the corner window table at Starbucks when no one was watching.

***

* * *

**BAZ**

I don’t actually know if Simon expects me at 9 or 10 this morning, but I know he’ll probably be there studying, and I want as much time with him as I can get. Even if that means sitting in silence and studying biology together. Actually, that sounds perfect.

After Niall’s game last night, I worked on a bunch of flashcards for Simon to self-study. As a last-minute decision, I stop at the copy place and photocopy my biology study guide for him. I ask them to bind it for me, so now Simon has his own.

I don’t usually go this far for my students, but I’m biased.

When I get there at 9, there’s a couple at Simons favourite table. At _our_ table.

“Over here,” Simon beckons me to a table on the opposite side of the room, alongside the wall. It’s cosy and snug, but It’s not open and freeing… I can imagine he feels somewhat … claustrophobic.

He looks troubled when I approach him, but he hands me a Caramel Frappe and proceeds to glare at the couple as they obliviously make conversation and lean into each other’s spaces. I wonder how he knew I’d be here early.

“maybe if you glare hard enough, you can set them on fire” I glance at him. His books and stationery are scattered on the desk, but it looks more haphazard than _used_ , as it did yesterday. Like he’s been trying and failing to focus here.

“Hopefully,” he glumly replies.

I sigh, “C’mon Snow, where do you usually work when your seat is taken?”

He shrugs, “I head to Penny’s. Or school.” I note that he never mentioned studying at home. I know he’s a foster kid – I heard from mutual friends on the rugby team that he has a curfew, so he only plays half a game. I figured his foster parents were stricter, but shouldn’t they encourage studying, then? Why won’t he study at home?

The curiosity burns, but I know we’re not close enough to ask.

I’m not even sure if we’re close at all. Nothing has changed, really, are we still enemies?

“There are other window seats,”

“but they’re not in the corner, so it doesn’t feel as private”

“this ones in the corner,” I point out.

“ _but it feels like I’m sitting in a box_ ” it’s a booth, “that one was just perfect, Baz,” he whines, “maybe I can just ask them to leave?” I sense a tantrum arising.

I sigh exasperatedly. Let us not disturb love, even if it _is_ heterosexual. “I have a better idea, let’s go,” I turn on my heel and stride back towards the spiral staircase. This is a terrible idea.

Simon haphazardly packs his backpack, grabs his coffee, and jogs after me.

“Where are we going?”

“a secluded yet tranquil environment that meets Simon Snow’s studying standards,”

“wait!” I turn to him.“you can’t drink and drive,” he smirks at me, cutting a glance to my frappe.

**SIMON**

I settle Baz at a corner table on the lower level for us to finish our drinks. I’m buying time; I’m nervous about getting on his motorcycle…

I leave Baz with our drinks (is it safe to leave your enemy unsupervised with your drink?) and head to the kitchen to get a snack. I’m hungry, and if free Starbucks is the only way I can repay him, I may as well milk it.

I grab a few sour cherry scones for myself and a chocolate-drizzled cream pastry for Baz (he appears to have a sweet tooth).

I freeze on my way back to the table when I notice Baz. He’s abandoned the lid and straw of his frappe; his curling tongue licking the whipped cream off his drink.

It looks sinful.

Hazel -the barista who works the morning shift - nudges me. “ _I_ didn’t serve him today, how did he even _get_ his drink?? He just walked in, helmet and all, walked right past me to the upper level.”

“I made it for him, don’t worry; I covered it.”

Hazel raises her eyebrows in surprise, “you know Tyrannus?”

I raise my eyebrows right back; no one calls him Tyrannus. I mean it’s his name, yeah, but even the _teachers_ refer to him as _Basilton_.

“we’re in the same class, he’s my bio tutor.”

“oh, lucky!” she gushes, practically eye-fucking Baz “what I’d give to lick that whipped cream off his-”

“Ohkayy” I cut Hazel off, desperately.

I pass Baz his pastry and settle down opposite him. He looks up at me in surprise.

“The deal was only on coffee, Snow,”

I shrug, “you’re early; have some breakfast.” Turns out, watching Baz eat a cream-filled pastry is even more sinful. I rip my gaze away from his lips and divert my attention, “I just made those yesterday,”

“you made these?” he sounds genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, I told you I’m in the bakery department.”

He hums his acknowledgement. I’m done with three scones before he finishes his pastry – he eats very slowly. Afterwards, we toss our wrappings in the bin and head outside to his motorcycle.

**BAZ**

I toss my helmet at Simon as I straddle my bike. “you better hold on tight,” I smirk behind me. His face reddens, but he awkwardly holds my chest. “do you want to fly off, Snow?” I tighten his grip.

I take off slow, easing him into it, but I need to speed up as we reach the main road.

I feel his arms snake down my body, and soon he’s tightly secured around my waist. I’m going to have a gay freak-out about this later.

His entire torso is pressed against my backpack. His head leaning on my shoulder blades.

What I’d give to be Simon Snow’s personal chauffer if it means I get to experience this more often.

Too soon, we arrive at our destination.

**SIMON**

Riding on the back of Baz’s motorcycle was not how I envisioned my morning going, but I hope I get to do it again.

It felt like flying.

Freeing.

I didn’t even mind the proximity if it makes me feel that type of high.

Eventually – too soon, in my opinion – I find myself outside Pitch manor. I’ve only ever been here when Baz threw his Halloween parties (that I was not technically invited to). I can’t fathom what we’re doing here right now. Baz leads me up multiple flights of stairs, and we don’t encounter anyone. I’ve never travelled beyond the ground level before. It’s just as creepy upstairs. Eventually, we reach a door that Baz _does_ stops at (there are too many rooms in this house). We’re on the third level now – who even has a three-story mansion?

He looks at me for a moment, an odd expression on his face. Slowly, he twists the – very old and expensive-looking – doorknob and holds the door open for me. I never considered Baz Pitch to be a gentleman before. My thoughts are redirected when I realise where we are.

I’m not sure which sense overwhelms me first.

The sound? I hear tranquil water.

The smell? Nature.

The sight beholding me? I’d assumed he was leading me to his library or study, but –

The ceiling above us is a glass dome, the sky above as clear as day. The entire left wall is glass. A giant, intricately carved water fountain is the greenhouse's centrepiece, with a matching bench alongside. Plants, trees, and flowers of every type surround me, it’s like my personal heaven. The room is dominantly green, but even the greens are varying shades.

When I adjust my eyes to take in the details, I notice the butterflies littering the plants and flowers across the room. I haven’t even walked around the room as yet, but I already notice a few tiny birds.

It’s beyond me that this is in his _home._

I walk up to a tiny orange and black bird, “are they yours too?”

Baz shakes his head, closing the door behind us, “all the insects, birds, butterflies… everything that’s not a plant, basically, sort of just showed up here over time” he points to the row of open windows on one side of the room. “they can leave if they want, but this much of nature isn’t so available to them in the city.”

I’m mesmerised, “why did you bring me here?”

“you said you like nature… you said the openness of it helped you focus,” he dwells deeper into the room and gestures for me to follow.

We reach a round, white, stone table with beautifully carved designs adorning it and two matching benches on either side.

This is too much. It’s too nice. “Baz I,” I’m shaking my head slowly.

I try to articulate my thoughts, but I can’t. Baz seems to understand, though. “Sit down, Snow” he reassures me, “honestly this is more convenient for me too. I’m obviously more comfortable in my own home, and look” he knocks his fist against one of the benches, “adequate seating.”

I laugh at his high maintenance and sit across from him.

***

* * *

**NIALL**

“With all due respect,” Dev gets out between guffaws of laughter, “that was awful.”

I roll my eyes at my cell phone even though Dev can’t see me. Dev is on speakerphone, the cell phone carelessly tossed on my bed.

“wasn’t that bad,” I mumble.

“you sound… laboured. What are you even doing? Why do you sound so far away?”

“push-up’s.”

“oh.” He’s quiet for a moment before he’s back on his bullshit. “well, like I was saying; it was pretty bad. Disappointing even,” he’s taking the mickey out of me because I got bowled out for a golden duck yesterday. To be fair, I never let him live it down every time he lets a goal through.

“remind me why I invite you to my games?”

“because you need a ride there,” Dev reminds me as he laughs, “when are you going for your driver’s test again? You need to get it done before college.”

“why would I do that when I have you as my personal chauffeur?” I was just teasing, but he’s quiet again.

Dev is rarely quiet, so it’s always a cause for concern.

“you gonna ride your bike around Paris?” his voice strained, “I won’t be there to drive you around.”

I stop mid-push-up. Flat on my bed a second later, Dev is on handset against my ear again. I know he knows. He always knows the difference and complains when I put him on speaker – says I’m dividing my attention from him.

“y’know…. you’d love Paris,”

“Hmm,”

“you don’t really know what you want to study as yet. You’re still figuring it out. You can figure it out in Paris too,”

Dev scoffs, “you seriously contemplating taking me to another country just so you don’t need to get your license?”

“no, I’m contemplating taking you to another country, so you’re there with me,” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. I can only hope he doesn’t sense the depth of my words.

After a moment, Dev makes a noncommitted sound, “well, it’s not like I even applied to any global universities, so,”

I’m quiet.

France has always been my dream. But Dev is my dream too.

Do I want to take him with me? His presence makes everything better. Makes everything feel complete.

Do I want to leave him behind and experience this without him? It’s the only way I’d ever stand a chance to get over him.

But like he said, I’m trying to make my way there to chase my dreams. It’s not his dream. It’s not my choice.

Dev’s voice draws me out of my introspection.

“Baz seem…weird, to you yesterday?” he asks.

“weird? How?”

“like…. just different. Distracted. Less…present.”

“I was kind of busy being a failure on the pitch, as you know, so I didn’t really spend a bunch of time with Pitch,”

“nice,” he smirks at my wordplay, “I dunno, he seemed strange yesterday. He showed up for the second half, but it was like he wasn’t even there.”

“Did he seem upset? D’you think something happened?”

“no…” Dev sounds lost in thought. It’s possible. Thinking is hard for him. “he just seemed…elsewhere.”

“Hmm, well, his study session with Snow was yesterday.”

“you think Snow did something?” I hear the protectiveness in his voice. They’re adorable when they’re wholesome cousins and not dicks to each other.

“maybe…Snow always gets Bazzy all weird. Like he can’t decide if he wants to kiss him or kill him and he might explode” It’s Dev’s nickname from when they were kids, I’m the only other person they allow to use it.

Dev laughs, “you think he still likes him? He’s always only ever a dick to him, but that’s not saying much because he’s Basil.”

I make a thoughtful noise, “Simon was significant to him, the first – if not only – guy to make him soft.”

“we’re still going to tease him about the date tomorrow though, right.”

“oh definitely."

***

* * *

**SIMON**

Baz is a lot nicer than I expected. Beyond teaching me, he really did make me the promised study cards. He also photocopied his entire study guide for me – cover page and all – had it bound and casually handed it to me. Printing alone would have cost him quite a bit.

I tried to renegotiate our arrangement again today, but he wouldn’t budge – he’s still not accepting my cash because “he didn’t even do anything” when really, he’s doing the most.

The one-hour mark comes and goes, and I notice it but don’t say anything. I’m having fun with this Baz, and it almost feels like he is too.

I’m scared that when we return to school, he’ll go back to normal.

When we’re in familiar territory, he’ll go back to old ways.

I don’t want to lose this Baz. He’s nice to me.

I think I might actually enjoy his company almost as much as Penny’s and she’s literally my favourite human.

Eventually, it’s 11.30, and I need Baz to drive me back to the café.

The drive back is even more pleasant than the first – Baz leaves his backpack at home, so I’m hugging his back like a clingy koala bear.

When did I start wanting to be this close to Baz?

I’ve always made sure I could keep an eye on him, but I’ve never wanted to just … hold him for a ten-minute drive. I’m almost sure that’s new.

I’m almost sure we’re friends too, sometimes. But then he refuses to call me by my first name, and I’m not so sure anymore.

There’s still some time left before my shift starts when we reach Starbucks, so I talk Baz into resting his legs at the lower level couch while I make him a compensatory tea.

I carry our drinks to him and settle down on the same couch, turned to him.

“I really appreciate all your help.”

He nods in acknowledgement but doesn’t offer more. I want to hear his voice, though. I only have eleven minutes before I’m on the clock again and he’s wasting time being cool.

“What did you do yesterday after our lesson?” I ask. Just for something to talk about. Just to make sure we aren’t back to normal where he only talks to me to be snarky. “study more?”

“a bit” he admits, “when I was making your flashcards. But when I left here, I went to Niall’s game”

At my confused expression, he elaborates, “the mages cricket team had a game yesterday.”

“but Friday is game day.”

“cricket is too long a game to start after our academic day, so most of the time it’s on the weekend and starts earlier, all other sports are Fridays, either at different or overlapping times” he explains.

I nod in understanding, “I don’t think I know the first thing about cricket.”

He considers me silently for a moment. “if you’re ever at any of the games, let me know. I’m generally around for Niall. I’ll explain the game to you.”

“flashcards and all?” I smirk at him

“only if you pay me,” he smirks right back.

We casually converse for a few minutes more until my shift starts.

From the window of the Starbucks’ kitchen, I watch the dark-haired boy leave on his motorcycle.

What is this feeling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to everyone who commented on Wednesday's Chapter's EndNote question to inform me that Baz is canonically a slut for sugar. 
> 
> Next Chapter (Wednesday): Monday, November 16th - YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS !!!  
> Baz gets asked out again, but third times not a charm and there's a twist.  
> Que internal panick...


	9. We have a situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date me, Baz Pitch!
> 
> Baz: Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to be book besties, hmu. 
> 
> You can email me on sookrajc@gmail.com and god knows when I'll reply but I'll put in some effort when I do. 
> 
> Or just hmu on the gram @sketchinginseptember

**Monday, November 16 th **

**BAZ**

Lily and I thought we were so slick last week. She caught me before practice, as soon as the first bell rang. We planned the whole thing. We had a fun, chilled week 'dating', and now she's caught the attention of a guy she actually likes, and they're 'talking'. What we didn’t realize is it started a whole frenzy. People are no longer waiting to run into me or even coming to practice to ask me out before the first period.

I’m now being sought out _earlier_.

I’m being sought out so I can be asked out practically _during_ the first bell. As soon as possible. As soon as legal in accordance to dare rules. This is madness.

I’m in the changeroom, changing into my kit when it happens.

I look at the man in front of me in terror. I can’t say _yes_. But the team around me stares intently, football players and rugby players alike. I know my alternative. Say no and be accused of homophobia for saying no to a dude when it’s not against the rules.

Oh, how clever Dev thought he was with that one. How we hoped a guy would catch up, and I could get my first boyfriend out of this.

We never anticipated _this_.

I look at the man in front of me and force out the word, “yes.”

**DEV**

We’re doing our pre-practice warm-up. And by ‘ _we’_ I mean my team and I. Baz; our _captain_ is nowhere to be found. Okay well, I didn’t look for him, but he’s usually here by now. We assumed he was just running late, so we started warm-ups, but it’s almost time for drills.

“Has anyone seen Pitch?” Coach yells. A murmur of ‘no’s’. “I know this is technically non-compulsory, but this close to qualifiers; _everything_ is compulsory!”

“If anyone knows that, it’s Baz, Coach” I provide.

She sighs. “Yeah, I know. Just… tell Basil no missing practice this close to qualifiers!”

“No need,” a velvety voice cuts in. Cousin dearest. “sorry I’m late, Coach.” 

Coach nods at him, “Three laps, Pitch. Then we start drills.” She blows her whistle.

The team settles down on the ground to stretch and have a breather while Baz runs laps. He nods the signal; he wants me to join him. Baz and I take off, and Coach doesn’t bother telling me to hang back this week. She’s probably hoping I’ll get Baz to stop showing up late to practice.

“where were you?”

Baz turns wide, somewhat panicked eyes at me, _“we have a situation.”_

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I was only, like, two minutes late – I was having a bad hair day” I can see that. His hair is in a half-ponytail; the bottom half is loose. Clearly, he gave up styling it and resorted to simply keeping it out of his eyes during practice. “– but I would have made it in time!” he whisper-shouts, “Matthew was in the change room!”

**BAZ**

_“Matthew?”_ Dev crinkles his nose in distaste. His expression pretty much says _Ew, Matthew_.

“Yes _Matthew_ , I take back every pleasant assessment I’ve ever made regarding his character,”

“Okay, I hate the guy, but why can’t Matthew be in the change room? there’s rugby practise too.” Dev nods his head in the direction of the rugby field adjacent to us. 

We’re on our second lap now, so I need to wrap this up, “We don’t have time to talk right now, but the short version is; he caught up with me in the changeroom and asked if I have a minute. I said yes because; courtesy, but also; Niall, anyway,” I breathe, “he asked me out.”

 _“what!”_ Dev looks equal parts furious and bewildered. Matthew really isn’t going to be besties with Dev.

‘he _asked me out_ ,” I make big eyes at him.

“ _Seriously_?”

“well, no,” I consider, “it was for the dare, but I am serious, yes.”

“well, _fuck._ ”

“Fuck indeed.”

“The fuck did you _say_?” Dev still looks utterly horrified

“I didn’t exactly have a choice!”

“You said _yes_?!”

We’re on our third and last lap before drills. We have a bunch of consecutive classes afterwards. And I’m stuck with Matthew during lunch. “What other option was there?” I plead, “The dare is too public now, as are the rules. We wanted a guy to find our loophole, but I never imagined it would be _him!_ if I said no then everyone would assume homophobia – which is rather ironic, to be honest,”

“So now _you’re_ dating Matthew? Is he just fucking making his rounds through our whole group?”

“For a week, I guess, but I don’t intend to be pleasant about it.”

“Fucking hell.”

“How the _fuck_ do I tell Niall?”

***

* * *

**SIMON**

I was in the change room when it happened. I always pay very close attention to Baz; I need to keep an eye on him in case he’s plotting.

But today I was just watching him.

 _Don’t ignore me,_ I thought to myself.

 _Don’t act like this weekend never happened_ , I pleaded.

Baz did ignore me although it seemed without malice. He always ignores me in the changeroom. He ignores mostly everyone in here, even his own teammates – save Dev and Niall. It’s like he’s violently against looking at semi-nude blokes.

Maybe he’s just very straight.

As am I, but even I can appreciate the way his lean torso looks when he steps out of the shower; a towel wrapped around his waist. He may be lean, but he has abs. They’re brilliant to look at, so I do.

Baz never looks at me in here, so I watch my fill, knowing I won’t get caught.

If he really is violently heterosexual, then he couldn’t have enjoyed what happened next any more than I did. I watched him put his socks on as I put on my protective gear when Matthew approached him. He greeted Matthew kindly. The interaction piqued my interest because Matthew previously mentioned that he tries to get close to Baz on the basis of his anticipated relationship with Baz’s best mate.

I did not expect him to check his watch, let the first bell ring and then ask Baz out immediately.

Baz looked like a deer in headlights although whether it was because Matthew should be dating Niall, or just because Matthew is a guy, I’m uncertain.

All I know is that I felt a surge of anger when the words “Date me, Baz Pitch!” left Matthew’s mouth, followed by a sinking, gaping hole in my chest when Baz uttered the word “yes” through gritted teeth.

Baz looked so uncomfortable, I wanted to save him. Not that Baz Pitch ever needs saving.

Everyone started clapping and a few people high-fived Matthew for ‘shooting his shot’, but I just felt distant. I don’t understand the toll this had on my emotions.

This has nothing to do with me, but it feels personal.

Suddenly, I didn’t have the energy to attend practice. I’m the captain so technically I need to be there even if it’s not compulsory practice. But Matthew is my co-captain, and he’s the last person I want to see right now. The last person I want to work with.

I don’t know why.

I don’t understand how I feel.

I sigh. I can’t ditch practice – the team is suffering enough because of me.

We lost Friday's game (Coach says it’s because I didn’t play half the game), although we lost by a shorter point gap than the previous week (Coach says it’s because I played at all).

Starting today, we’re using practice to rearrange our strategy and approach to accommodate for the half of the game I’m not playing. The team is so tailored to both, my game style and captaincy that we had a significant lead in the first half, but the second half was – apparently- very sloppy.

I can’t let the team down, no matter what psychological crisis I’m currently sporting.

Grumpy and agitated, I stormed out of the changeroom and finished my padding on the bleachers instead.

It takes a few minutes, but I eventually see Baz jog onto the field. He’s late. I watch him run with his cousin. They look over at our field at one point, and I know that Baz is telling Dev about Matthew.

My heart sinks.

***

* * *

**BAZ**

I don’t get to complain again until French, the period before lunch. I excuse myself and give Niall the signal that he should, too. Thankfully Mr Fauvel is a pushover, so he doesn’t really care.

“Problem,” I stress, “we have a _problem._ ”

“What problem? Are you okay?”

“So you know how people have been either asking me out or harassing me about who I’m dating, all period.”

“yeah, you kept brushing it off, what’s up?’

I hesitate. But he needs to know. “Matthew asked me out.”

Niall’s mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. He’s the image of silent shock.

“w…what did you say?”

I sigh. “I … I didn’t _know_ what to say, Niall,” I plead with him, “if I’d said _no_ , they’d think that it was a homophobic thing…”

“no, no of course,” Niall rubs his eyes, “you can’t lose the bet for him,”

“it’s not about the _bet_ , Niall” I plead, “and it’s about _you,_ not _him_ ,”

Niall walks towards me and head-butts my shoulder (he’s a few inches shorter), “stop stressing, Bazzy. I’m not mad. I broke up with him. Heck – I didn’t even _date_ him!”

“- yeah but you liked him,”

“But I didn’t love him.” Niall smiles up at me, head still leaning against my shoulder. “You know who I love. Matthew…this is just his way of spiting me after he poured his heart out to me, and I rejected him. I deserve it really,”

“He could have just asked someone else out to make you jealous or whatever,” I growl.

“but it wouldn’t be such a slap in the face, he’s proving a point.”

“It’s heartless,”

“It’s heartbreak.”

I sigh. We’re at an impasse.

“I just have to call him my boyfriend for five days, but I couldn’t care less for him—no phone calls. No rides. Hell, I’m not even going to sit with him at lunch,” I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, you are,” Niall chuckles, “The dare demands the full Baz Pitch boyfriend experience.”

“I’ll be a terrible boyfriend, then,”

Niall laughs, “Oh, don’t pout Bazzy. I’m okay. And it’s not even a real relationship. Come Monday, the rotation starts again.”

I bring my left arm up – he’s resting on my left shoulder – and tug on his hair. “Thank you for not being mad at me…I-I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I love _Dev_ , Baz.”

I smile at the finality of his words, “You should tell him,”

Niall groans, “If only it was that easy.” _But it could be. If only one of you spoke up._

“You should ask him to help you make Matthew jealous – get back at him for this.”

“That’s not me. And as much as I dislike what he did, I understand his heartsore,”

“I don’t – surely the best friend is off-limits.”

“It’s just a week. Five days.”

“I didn’t even really have a choice. He manipulated me into it, basically,”

“Up-side; maybe guys will get the hint now and finally start asking you out,”

“I don’t know if I want them to…I’m mostly happy with the way things are,”

Niall smirks up at me, “Do you have a new crush, Bazzy?”

I scoff, “I’m more than self-sufficient, I don’t need a boyfriend,”

“I know,” Niall sighs, “C’mon, let’s get back in there.”

“Niall I…I know I said yes, to him. Technically. But if it bothers you at all, I promise you I’ll say no. It’s only third period, I’ll say I changed my mind, and I’ll throw the bet I don’t care, it’s not important. You're important. And if anyone starts their homophobic shit, I’ll just point out that he’s a friends ex,”

Niall pulls my hair. It’s all open and loose now. Still more untidy and unkept than usual but today is shaping out to be a pretty terrible day in general. I should have got the warning when I couldn’t set my hair. “I hurt him. I understand what he’s doing. Don’t be too hard on him, he really is a sweetheart.”

We head back to class, and I’m just grateful that Niall understood. That he didn’t blame me for saying yes to Matthew. It’s not a real relationship, and it’s not like I want him in any sense of the word, but I still felt like I should have said no. There was just … more at stake.

Still, I’d end the fake relationship and throw this whole bet for Niall if he asked.

Also, I think I agree with Dev, fuck Matthew.

***

* * *

**PENELOPE**

“ _Honestly_ , Simon” I groan, exasperated, “if you want to sit at the rugby table, then just _go._ ”

“I don’t want to.”

“We won’t care, I promise” I gesture between myself and Agatha, “you’re literally captain, we understand if you want to sit with your team sometimes.”

“co-captain” he huffs in a pout. He’s in full-blown tantrum mode, and I’m not even certain what the tantrum is _about_. Sure, they lost Friday’s game. But Simon played his half flawlessly so if there were college scouts present, they’d be impressed by his performance regardless. Mission accomplished.

“and whose fault is that?” Agatha retorts. I glare at her, but Simon either doesn’t pick up on her sarcasm or just doesn’t care.

“Matthew’s” Simon replies with a scowl.

I raise my eyebrow at him, “what’s your problem with Matthew?”

“Did you know he’s who Baz is dating this week?” I did. It’s all anyone could talk about all morning. I didn’t think anything could make gossip waves as big as the dare did, but Baz – captain of the football team – being asked out by (co-) captain of the rugby team really did make first place in a matter of hours. “He just did it right there in the changeroom before practice like it wasn’t a big deal, and I could tell that Baz didn’t even want to say yes, but the dare forced him”

“Not really. I mean, he’d lose the dare, but he can still opt-out if he really wants to.”

Agatha nods her head, purposely, “You are dare chancellor after all.”

Simon shakes his head, “Baz didn’t want to say yes – he’s not even gay.”

“I mean, we don’t know” I reason.

Apparently, this was just encouraging Simon because he raises an eyebrow at me, “What do you mean, Penelope” oh god. He’s full-naming me. He must mean business. “What do you _know_?”

I sigh, “I don’t _know_ anything, Simon. It’s just that Baz hasn’t explicitly confirmed his sexuality – it’s not like he needs to; it’s not our business. But he hasn’t declared either, so it’s kind of rude to assume that he’s heterosexual on the basis of him never mentioning that he’s not, y’know?”

Simon doesn’t seem to comprehend me.

“He could be straight, or he could be bi, gay, pan. Fuck, he could even be ace! But we can’t assume. It’s rude.”

“It’s like saying that straight is the default sexuality” Agatha, bless her soul, summarises. “Like saying that everyone is straight unless they say otherwise.”

Simon slowly nods, “you’re saying that we shouldn’t assume anyone’s sexuality.”

“Yeah,” I add “it goes either way. You can’t assume someone is queer if they never said they are. You also shouldn’t assume someone is straight just because they’ve never said otherwise. Really, we have no business assuming anyone’s sexuality, it has nothing to do with us.”

“And if it does,” Agatha adds, “the safest thing is just to either ask or make your own intentions known and let them decide their own approach.”

Simon nods.

“You never did explain why you’re so upset about Baz and Matthew, though,” Agatha asks.

“You’re not?” Simon counters.

Agatha shrugs, “Not any more than I was when he was dating Aimee or Lily. It’s not like any of these are even real relationships,”

Simon is wearing that expression where I know he’s wracking his brain for excuses. “It’s just that Matthew was just telling me about how he and Niall are basically a couple. And now he’s trying for Baz? Isn’t there some law that makes Baz off-limits, regardless of his sexuality, since Niall is his best friend?”

I’m calling bullshit because I really don’t think Simon gives a shit about Niall’s dating ventures– more likely he just thought of that – but I play along.

“Law? Probably not. But it is a common courtesy” I tell him. “Anyway, how did your study session go?”

Simon immediately brightens, which is unexpected. I was expecting more scowling and glowering. Maybe some swear words.

“Pretty good, actually. I was going to call, but I had a busy weekend,” he apologises, “When I wasn’t working I was either at tuitions with Baz or working with the flashcards and study guide he gave me,”

I furrow my eyebrows. I’m pretty sure Baz just tutors for college credit – I haven’t heard anything about him providing additional study aid, prior. I’ll ask him about that.

“I feel a lot more prepared for the next quiz – confident even.”

I’m mildly confused, but if this is a good thing for Simon, then I’m happy about it.

“that’s great, Si, do you have another session next weekend?”

“yeah,” he confirms, “oh, I hope we can go back to the greenhouse – but I don’t think I can ask.”

“Pardon?”

“oh!,” realization dawns on him, “so on Saturday we studied at Starbucks, like I said y’know,” I nod my head. I know Simon likes to study upstairs. He finds it calming. “and it was great – I mean we had to sit on the ground, and he’s a bit high maintenance for that, and he didn’t know where to put his legs, and I accidentally called him daddy-long-legs –”

Agatha chokes on her lemonade – she’s practically crying – and I stop mid-bite, my sandwich is in mid-air.

Simon is beaming.

“ – But we made it work, and it was really, really helpful,” he inhales, “but then on Sunday my seat was taken,” his eyebrows wrinkle. He hates when that happens.

He feels more at home in that little corner than he feels in any of the places he’s lived.

“- so Baz took me to his greenhouse, and we studied there and Penny, it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” he exclaims, oblivious to mine and Agatha’s astonishment, “more beautiful than any garden I’ve ever seen – no offence – and there were butterflies, and they just…fluttered around him and he- he just _let them._ ”

He takes a deep breath. Seems to notice that Agatha and I are both frozen personifications of shock, and exhibits confusion, “what is it?”

Agatha beats me to the punch. “Basil took you to his _house_?”

“yeah?” Simon asks her, confused, “it’s not like we haven’t been there before.”

“not beyond the first floor”, she’s right. Baz’s parties are always huge, but he controls the crowd to the ground level – which is spacious enough between the house and the yard. He doesn’t exactly have a garden – it’s not that kind of house (it’s more Victorian era) – so the greenhouse is news to me too.

Simon just shrugs. “well it was gorgeous, I was actually genuinely sad when we had to leave – knowing I may not see it again. I don’t know if it was a one-time offer, but he only offered because my seat was taken, and his greenhouse is wayyy better than my little corner at Starbucks.”

“really?” I chime in. Simon loves that corner.

Simon nods back in confirmation. I nod back in acknowledgement (and slight suspicion.)

“well, how was the day otherwise? Do you finally believe me that he’s not out to get you?”

Simon looks troubled at this. “dunno. The time we spent together was definitely good,” odd but okay “and we didn’t fight as much. And he let me off the hook with the fee,” Agatha and I make eye contact at that. Like when you’re communicating via looks when you can’t speak? I just have zero idea what we communicated with that look other than mutual suspicion – but it’s not the kind of thing one questions, that’s the whole point of the look. “but he still calls me Snow – except that one time, by mistake” he has a fond smile on and my own turns coy. “and it’s not like we’re friends or anything.” He sighs. “I don’t know. But I want the lessons to continue. They help me a lot, and I don’t hate them.”

“what do you mean he let you off the hook with the fee?” Agatha asks

“oh – well we agreed to negotiate the price after the first lesson, yeah? So he could see how much help I needed before giving me a price, and he ended up saying that it was more of a mutually beneficial study session than tuitions, so he just charged me free coffee in exchange for ‘lessons.’” He put’s the word lessons in air quotes.

I just smile at him. Agatha looks troubled.

A burst of raw laughter erupts from the rugby table and Simon – surprisingly – get’s up and walks over before we can stop him.

I turn to face a distressed Agatha and smirk at her. “are you jealous of Baz or Simon in this situation?”

Agatha is dear to me. She’s one of the few people I’d deem worthy of my time.

But her relationship with Simon was a stressful time for all involved parties, myself included. She’s one of those beautiful, popular girls who generally wouldn’t even give me the time of day, but she’s not stuck up like that. She doesn’t act superior. She just wasn’t right for Simon, nor he for her, and I can’t say I was heartbroken when two of my best friends ended their commitment to keep hurting each other. Yes, Agatha did leave Simon for Baz – which was shitty – but she wasn’t happy, and neither was Simon. She didn’t exactly think her plan through (this is why people should just come to me when thinking is involved) because she made this decision without finding out if _Baz_ wants to date _her_. Agatha may not be stuck up, but she can definitely be vain – I don’t think she ever doubted if Baz would want to date her, as long as the option was available to him. He gave her more attention than he did the average girl; he casually flirted and mostly tolerated her advances – but nothing ever really happened between them. And I don’t think he wants there to. I don’t know if Agatha really wants something to happen with Baz, or if she just feels like she _should_ want it. Sometimes I feel like she dated Simon because it made sense. Because they made sense (she was on the cheer squad before she dropped her pompoms and picked up a lacrosse stick, he was quarterback before levelling up to captain.) Everyone liked Simon. I think she assumed she did too because he was likeable. I don’t think she ever really thought about if she liked _him_. And I don’t think she’s really thinking about if she likes _Baz_ either – or if he’s just likeable.

She raises a stubborn eyebrow at me. “what do you mean?”

I sigh. Everyone is clueless.

“I don’t really know what’s going on,” I admit, “but I do know one thing. Simon and Baz had to travel from the café to his house somehow,” she gives me her ‘so what?’ look. “And Baz didn’t take the Porsche. He mentioned it to me in class earlier. Said his hair was all messy from driving around on his motorcycle all weekend.”

Realization dawns on Agatha. Her expression is complicated, which is expected because her feelings towards both of them are anything but straightforward. But she doesn’t say much – she seems to be lost in thought. And I don’t say much, I eat my lunch and keep an eye on Simon at the rugby table, next to Niall.

Simon and Dev are an unexpected pillar of solidarity behind Niall against Matthew.

If you ever thought boys were less dramatic about this kind of stuff than girls, you were misled.

***

* * *

**BAZ**

Everything about this lunch is entirely awkward, and if I must keep this up for five days, I will resort to starvation.

Spending lunch with my partner of the week is a standard agreement of the dare. I’ve already fulfilled the requirement with Aimee and Lily so if I adamantly don’t do it now, it will look like homophobia. Homophobia is proving to be a big problem for me. One I never thought I’d have. Maybe I should just come-out so I can stop worrying about people thinking I’m a bigot.

Especially since it’s technically not a big deal since the dare prohibits all physical contact (thank god) and we’ve sat at the rugby table before.

What is, however, a big deal; is that Niall is seated directly opposite me.

Dev, Niall and I always sat together unless either Dev or Niall were hooking up with someone and occasionally ditched us to sit with them. Dev has thus far always accompanied me on this part of dare fulfilment, and the only time Niall didn’t was when he was dating Matthew.

Now, Niall is seated directly opposite Matthew, and I. Dev is flanking him on his right side and the hostile glares he keeps shooting Matthew every time they even vaguely make eye contact is very obvious. My own visible hostility towards Matthew cannot possibly be going unseen. I’ve barely said a word to him, and I have my books placed on the bench between us, forcing a distance between us. At least a third of the school already speculate my homophobia (which is honestly ridiculous considering Niall is openly bisexual and my best friend and everyone should know about his history with Matthew since it ended like last week).

I thought things couldn’t possibly get more awkward, but I was wrong.

Brown curls and blue eyes navigate to our table and plop down next to Ethan.

No one questions Simon’s presence since he’s literally team captain, but Simon never sits here. He always sits with Penelope, and she wouldn’t get on with jocks.

What is he doing here?

The small-talk and awkward conversation present around the table continue without contribution from myself, Dev, or Niall – and now Snow. After about ten minutes, I notice that Snow has moved to flank Niall on his left side.

Suspicious.

What is Simon’s angle?

I’m bewildered, and to be honest, I yearn to hear his voice. It feels weird sitting at a table with him and practically ignoring each other, after spending the weekend together. Yes, it was a study date, but we spoke a lot, and I want to talk to him more.

I don’t want us to go back to normal because we’re back here.

I don’t pick a fight with him, hoping that helps. My more immediate issue is Matthew. He didn’t seem to be expecting anything further since he asked me out, thankfully. But he can’t be blind to the toll this is taking on our little trio.

After what feels like an eternity, the bell goes, and we head to class.

***

* * *

**SIMON**

It’s after final bell and practice when I finally speak to him.

He’s leaning on his Porsche hood, having a smoke. I walk up to him. I keep some distance between us and more distance between myself and his car. It feels like too nice of a thing for me to touch.

But then I did straddle his Ducati, so.

It feels weird; approaching him like this. Not knowing if he’s about to be cruel or kind.

It’s scary. I’m afraid of him acting like this weekend never happened. That’s why I needed to approach him today. While it’s still fresh. Break the ice on familiar territory. If I can get us to be the friendly version of us in school, it will be easier to go forward.

“Stop thinking so hard, Snow, you’ll malfunction,” he says in a cool drawl.

It infuriates me. This is the version of him I hate—the condescending, superior pick.

One version of him is a façade, and I am determined to figure out which one.

I think back to this weekend, to every time he made a comment and I didn’t get revved up – because I couldn’t – and we ended up having a conversation since I didn’t let things escalate.

He instigates fights, it’s his fault.

But this one time I’ll try. I’ll try to let it slide, and be nice, and find that Baz from the greenhouse.

Maybe he’ll stop pushing me if I refuse to push back harder.

“your study guide and flashcards helped with that,” I retort. I’m still using a bit of a tone with him, but he’s a dick, so. “I- I just wanted to say thanks again, for them. Y-you didn’t need to do that.”

He doesn’t say anything, unfortunately. But he doesn’t make any cruel comments either, so that’s a plus.

“And thank you for taking me to your Greenhouse,” I give him a smile that he can’t see – he won’t look at me – “it was amazing.”

I back away, preparing myself to leave.

I’m sad that he couldn’t say one nice thing to me. I guess it’s an improvement that he didn’t intimidate me after his initial comment, but I expected more after this weekend.

I expected more from him.

I watch as Matthew walks towards the Porsche – get’s rides home as part of the dare. I have to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes.

I’m almost out of earshot when I hear him.

“Same time on Saturday?” he asks.

I smile to myself. “See you at nine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter (Sunday): The week ahead, and how Baz and his minions deal with the Matthew situation


	10. Don't bring up the Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The minions deal with Matthew and then sport is played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this (early) by mistake...I selected "Post" instead of "Preview" so...there ya go.

**BAZ**

_I didn’t have sixth period with Matthew, but I know exactly where to find him. The rugby players would have left the sixth period a bit early to gear up; they have a game today, only a half-hour after the academic day. A good thing, because that means that my team and I can actually watch the game, and a good thing for the rugby team because their captain can actually play a whole game._

_I leave class early; jogging past the rugby pitch, football pitch, the pool at the sports centre entrance, and finally reaching my destination—the_ _boys' change room._

 _I wait outside for three minutes because I’m extra._ _When I do walk in, I walk right up to – a very surprised – Matthew. I pause, look at my watch, let the final bell ring out, look him in the eyes and say, “I’m dumping you, Matthew O’Brian!”_

 _There’s a round of “ooh’s” and “aah’s”. A few homophobic slurs – which I hate. A few people accusing_ me _of being homophobic – which is misled but I appreciate._

_Matthew looks annoyed by my theatrics, but he’s otherwise fine. That’s fine. It’s not like we ever really liked each other. We were friends for a few years, but not so close that I can’t do without him. It’s not like that’s why he asked me out. This was all just a ploy to get back at Niall for breaking his heart, and I was the pawn._

_Well, fuck you, Matthew. Baz Pitch is not a pawn._

_It’s not like I’m even obligated to break up with the person – Aimee and I didn’t 'break up'. Lily broke up with me over text and then called me laughing saying, “I just wanted to be able to say I dumped Baz Pitch over text. But like, I love you, Ty.” I didn’t mind._

_The point is, this was grandiose and unnecessary, but I had to get revenge for his scene on Monday morning._

**Wednesday, November 18** ** th **

**BAZ**

Something hit’s me in the face. I look down to find a French fry. I look up; Dev and Niall are staring at me expectantly. Dev’s hand is up in mid-motion – he threw the French fry then.

I take in my surroundings. I’m at the cafeteria – not the changeroom. I’m still dating the dumbass next to me. My friends watch me; their faces betraying some emotion between annoyed and concerned - they looked constipated. 

“You good?” Niall asks

“You zoned out for a while there,” Dev explains.

“I’m good,” I give Dev the ‘let’s go have a smoke’ signal and head outside. Niall tags along. He’s smoked with us before, but he doesn't smoke as often as Dev and I do. He doesn't like the aftertaste, or the smell it leaves on you afterwards. Granted, Dev and I smoke the good stuff. Expensive cigarettes; they don't really smell that bad. But Niall isn't a fan of tobacco. He isn't smoking with us today - he never smokes in school (he would be in a lot more trouble if we got caught than Dev or I would - our parents would just be focused on 'more important' things and tell us to be more careful next time). But he tagged along anyway - he didn't want to be left with Matthew. 

After Monday, Simon never came back to the rugby table. I don’t know why he ever came there in the first place, but I suspect he didn’t come back because I dismissed him later that afternoon. I didn’t mean to be rude…but is that not us? What’s the protocol here? We’re constantly antagonizing each other, and he goes around telling the whole school I’m his nemesis - at what, I have no idea - but his enemy, nonetheless. What is expected of me, really? Especially after this weekend. I’d allowed myself to be entirely too soft with him, and that’s dangerous. Simon would never return the sentiments I share, so he can never know about them. When you start going around, sharing your feelings, that’s when people figure out you love them (unless you’re Dev or Niall, apparently). I have to be strict with him. I have to keep him at arm's length.

Loving Simon Snow is like dancing with an open flame. He’s constantly drawing you in, and you’re constantly getting too close.

And then you burn.

So, arm's length. I have to keep him at a distance before this ends in flames.

It’s difficult when he’s trying so hard to…be friends? I don’t really know. He’s the one who decided that we are enemies in the first place.

I can tell he wants to reach the softer side of me he saw when I lost control – and my mind – this weekend. The version of myself I became when we were alone, in unfamiliar territory, and I didn’t know the protocol. I don’t know if it’s the truest versions of us...but we’re different people when it’s just us.

I let him ride on my motorcycle. I’ve had so many people (girls and guys alike) ask if they could do that, and I never let any of them. I took him to my home, for what? So he could look at some plants and stop pouting? I knew that was a terrible idea – I just couldn’t stand him looking so …. evicted, over a tiny table in a coffee shop. He had this ‘I don’t belong anywhere’ look on his face, and I knew that losing that table ran a whole lot deeper than our study session. It was a place he felt safe and at home. And when he couldn’t access it; that triggered some shit.

Honestly, I think Simon Snow needs some therapy.

But all I could offer him at the time was some comfort—a new place, to get his mind off his corner. But I was too soft. I let him get too close, and now I spend all my time either yearning for him or cringing away from my ‘boyfriend’.

The only thing getting me through this week is the knowledge that I’ll see Simon this weekend. And that’s pathetic and dangerous.

Something hits me at the back of my head. I come to ,looking around to find that I’m outside with an unlit cigarette in my hand and Dev and Niall looking genuinely concerned.

I zoned out again.

"Seriously mate, what’s going on? Are you even present?” Niall asks.

I sigh. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Talk to us,” Dev urges, before putting his cigarette back in his mouth and taking a long pull. Dev exhales his smoke on Niall’s face. Niall shoves him.

Cute.

“I don’t know how long I zoned out in there, but I was fantasizing about dumping my dear boyfriend,” I mumble around the cigarette in my mouth as Dev lights it up with a match. “and well, now it’s just this Snow stuff,”

“it’s going to snow?” Dev asks, eyebrows raised. Eye glinting in excitement. 

“wha- no, no, I meant Simon. This Simon stuff. Simon Snow.”

“What Simon Snow stuff?” Dev raises an eyebrow. This is less exciting for him.

“I’ve been tutoring him,”

“You tutor a lot of people – you have brains and stuff,”

“I don’t often tutor people I use to have very strong feelings for,” I seethe between gritted teeth. They’re just making me bring up the situation. Forcing me to acknowledge that it happened and that I have feelings and stuff.

I hate them.

“well…do you still?” Niall enquires

“still?”

“have feelings for him, you numpty!” Dev flicks his ash at me, and I shove him – playfully – into Niall. They both glare at me for the same reason, without the other person noticing. Because they’re oblivious like that.

“No!... I don’t know,” I sigh. “it’s not like the type of situation where you get closure, y’know? It was just a hopeless crush that you do nothing about, and you think it went away, over time. Then you’re forced to spend alone time with them. Now you can’t get them out of your fucking mind!” I didn’t realise how my voice was rising until I finished my dramatic monologue and needed to take a few breaths. “it’s just… a lot right now.”

“you don’t know it’s hopeless, Bazzy,” Niall says kindly.

“he’s straight!”

“I mean, that’s an assumption.”

“Wellbelove!”

“he could be bi,” Dev adds, “I thought I was straight for 17 years, heck – I even liked Wellbelove for a while,”

“that’s not the same,”

“Did he ever say that he’s exclusively straight or are you just assuming?” Niall asks, who really should be the last one talking because the object of his affection is his bisexual best friend and he still won’t speak up.

“I just…know.”

“Baz”

“do not make me get my hopes up for something that will never happen just to get hurt,” I snap. They both shut up.

They don’t bring up the situation again, and soon we had back to class –but they've already planted the seed of doubt.

Intellectually I know that Simon is straight….but they already made me wonder… _what if?_

* * *

Thankfully, the boys never really made me deal with Matthew on a one-on-one basis. I was obligated to lunch dates – which they accompanied me on. Monday was unexpected (for me at least. I’m pretty sure Matthew planned this because he conveniently didn’t drive his car to school that day, he got a lift instead because he knew I’d end up giving him a lift home). Niall accompanied us on Monday instead of getting a lift with Dev (much to both of their dismay) so that I need not be alone with Matthew. I wasn’t ready to speak to him. I didn’t really. For the days that followed, I gave Matthew lifts to and from school, and Dev and Niall both joined us. Dev sat in the back seat – it’s impressive how consistent he is at glaring at Matthew without tiring. Niall sat upfront with me, simultaneously to keep Niall away from Matthew (for Dev), make Matthew jealous (for Niall), and just so that I don’t need to sit with Matthew (for me).

Good men.

It was a hectic week thus far, but I was holding on to Friday.

If there was one helpful thing Matthew did, it was updating us on the rugby team. Apparently, the team was having a hard time adapting to two captains. They were so adjusted to Simon’s captaincy tactics and his skill level on the field that they relied on him. In the second half, they had to follow Matthew’s captaincy style which may not necessarily be ineffective but is different while adjusting to a player less competent than Simon on the field. The team needed to practice adjusting to Matthew’s captaincy style. And if it was still too confusing for the team to follow two captains, Simon might lose his captaincy altogether. Matthew said that Simon wouldn’t be benched – everyone understood and sympathized with this situation – so he could still play his half of the game, but if being captain for only half the game was causing more detriment, then Matthew would take over captaincy indefinitely.

I felt bad for Simon.

He tried so hard. He hates me, and although our tutoring sessions weren’t as bad as expected, he swallowed his pride and came to me for help without knowing how I would respond or how pleasant the session would be.

Just to stay on the team.

But this Friday’s game gave them a chance. Their game was earlier than usual, right after the academic day ends. I will not really be publicly dumping Matthew as I fantasized about, but Dev, Niall and I would go to the game. We usually didn’t get to since our games overlapped, but their game should finish before ours starts. It also means that Simon gets to play a full game. And prove himself as a player, and as captain.

And I’ll be on the bleachers.

***

* * *

**NIALL**

Resisting Dev has been a lot harder – and so have I – since he came out to me as bisexual. Maybe it’s the false hope and sliver of a possibility that I’m an option, even though realistically I know I’m not. Maybe it's the camouflaged jealousy because I know someone must have made him realise that he’s bisexual. It could be deep, or it could be lustful, but someone made Dev realise that he’s ‘not as straight as previously assumed’ and that’s hard to swallow.

Regardless, I find myself wanting to devour Dev a lot more often than I previously did. I’ve always wanted him, but my anchor of self-control was the knowledge that he was straight, hence this was a pipedream. The inkling of possibility throws all my morals out the window, and I’m genuinely concerned that I might just suck his dick the next time he gets mouthy at me.

He was all…caring on Monday. After we found out that Matthew asked Baz out.

I hated it.

Don’t check up on me. Don’t feel bad for me because a guy I used to like asked out our friend. Just don’t, if you’re not going to be jealous. If you’re not going to claim me.

If you won’t make me yours.

We promised Baz we’d ride with him and Matthew – that we wouldn’t leave them alone.

“Niall is sitting in the fucking front seat,” Dev decided, we didn’t object. I blushed internally. It was sweet. It was protective.

But it was also my best friend – he’s protective of Baz too, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt Baz, and he wouldn’t let anyone who hurt him before, close enough to try again.

It wasn’t possessive. Territorial.

It’s not fair to expect these things of Dev.

It’s not at all fair.

But I still yearn for it.

Every time he’s sweet and caring, and protective…every time he’s all the things that made me fall in love with him initially… it’s hard not to be greedy for that last bit.

For that piece of him that no one else can reach, not even Baz.

He’s like a rose. He’s gorgeous, everyone knows it. But I’m willing to endure every thorn before I can reach his bud and petals. I’ve been enduring them all these years, anyway. I’d endure every hamartia if it made him consider giving me an inkling of his love.

Not the best friend kind.

All of him, or just some. Whatever he can give me, I’ll take. I’m taking it. It keeps me going.

He keeps me going.

***

* * *

**SIMON**

I need to speak to my foster family. I know this.

Penny told me that this needs to be done, and like I previously mentioned, Penny is always right. But that doesn’t make it easy. I’ve meant to approach them about the curfew issue for weeks, but I feel nauseous and feverish every time I try to bring it up. I don’t know if that’s fear, anxiety,…trauma. But I don’t like it.

The team understood the situation as best they could. I’m allowed to play half the game for evening matches, a courtesy otherwise not allowed. Still, the team is suffering under dual captaincy, and they deserve better. I might lose captaincy for this reason, and I worked for it.

I need to talk to my foster parents, I need an extended curfew for game days. Penny says I should invite them to my games on Fridays so they can see that I’m sincere about my reason for requesting curfew extension.

But it’s not easy to ask for more when you’re so used to having nothing.

They haven’t illtreated me or done anything to hurt me since I’ve been here. More than anything else they’ve been absent, but that’s the best-case scenario. There are just a few months left until I turn 18 and angering them now would just make them send me back to the orphanage – I hate the orphanage more than anything.

I refuse to go back.

I’ll deal with the rugby thing. You can’t have everything, I know that. So I may have to sacrifice captaincy if Matthew is what is best for the team. As long as he lets me play, I can still pray for a scholarship.

At least that was the plan.

You think you have a plan, and then life throws you another fucking hurdle.

I’m already juggling rugby for university, academics, work and tuitions for the academics to allow me to play the rugby.

And now, my manager called saying that she needs me to cover Hazel’s shift this weekend. I can’t really complain because prior to tutoring sessions with Baz, I requested the early shift because of my curfew situation (I don’t work the shift alone, so I take off just in the nick of time for me to run home before curfew.) However, this does mean that I might lose my tuitions with Baz – he said he prefers morning sessions. He’s doing me a favour, I’m not even paying him, I can’t just expect him to give me his weekend afternoons.

I sigh. There’s no way out of this. I need this job.

I call him.

***

* * *

**BAZ**

> _Incoming Call: Simon Snow_

I’m applying a face mask while proofreading my History essay that’s due next week when my phone starts vibrating on my bed. A peek at the caller ID has me frozen in place.

_Why is Simon Snow calling me?_

How do I answer Simon’s call?

Hello?

How can I help you?

Hi?

Greetings and Salutations Snow?

Snow (but in a rude tone)?

What do you want?

Should I just sneer? 

Answer and say nothing until he does?

So many options and I can’t text the minion's group chat for advice because my phone is ringing Simon’s name. I accept the call probably a minute before voicemail picks up – because my voicemail sounds dumb and I don’t want Simon to hear it. I just…place the call on speaker (my face is messy) and resort to saying nothing at all.

> _00:05 seconds_

Eventually, he speaks. “Baz? Are you there?”

“I am,” I say in what I can only hope is cool nonchalance.

He asks me how I am, I tell him I’m fine, and I don’t ask him how he is.

This isn’t going so bad.

“So… I just needed to speak to you about this coming weekend, our scheduled tutoring session…”

I feel my heart sink. That’s what was getting me through the week. It sounds like he’s about to cancel. Was I that bad, last week? I know I suck at communication, but I did try to be manageable…

“Yes?” I snap. Probably ruder than I should have, but it’s to mask my sadness.

“well, my boss changed my shift this weekend. She wants me to work the morning shift. And I know you said you’d tutor me in the morning because you prefer it that way so…so if you choose to discontinue tutoring me I will understand.”

He’s not cancelling?

“Okay.”

“Okay you’re cancelling?” he sounds unrealistically sad. He doesn't really need me that much with my study guide and flashcards.

“Okay, we’ll work after your shift. What time do you get off?” I really wish I phrased that question literally any other way. I bite my tongue.

“wha-oh, ah” he blusters, “Twelve. I start at five even though doors open at seven, to bake and stuff.”

“Okay. You’ll probably need a break after a full shift. What time do you want to start?”

“Literally any time is fine, whenever it’s convenient for you…I didn’t really expect you to accommodate me at all.”

“I’ll pick you up at 12, and we can start around 1” it’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. I realise my mistake.

“P-pick me up?” he stutters, “we aren’t working at Starbucks?”

Well fuck.

“Sure we can.”

“But you don’t want to?”

“Pardon me for preferring an actual bench over sitting on the floor, Snow,” it’s not wrong, but it’s also not the reason. Something about having him in my house is exhilarating. He lit up when he walked into the Greenhouse, and I want to see that again. The Greenhouse feels like… our place. And it’s private and ….and it’s not keeping Simon at arm's length at all. Not to mention the motorcycle rides I played back in my head on a loop every night ever since.

He’s right. “You’re right though, Snow, we should probably work at Starbucks,”

He’s silent for a beat, and I sneak a glance at my phone screen, checking if he’s hung up.

“You’re a high maintenance bloke, sitting on the ground is basically abuse,” his voice is a lot softer now, suddenly the phone call feels a lot more intimate. “Where did you have in mind? Greenhouse?”

“Yeah,” I’m softer now too. “I mean if you want to. Starbucks is fine. I’ll sit on the couch and leave you on the ground like an animal.”

He just chuckles, “The Greenhouse is perfect. I’ll see you at 12.”

And just like that I know I’m in shit.

***

* * *

**Friday, November 20th**

**BAZ**

I’ve never been this relieved to break up with a person in my life, and I’ve dated a cheerleader. Okay, granted dating a cheerleader doesn’t sound that bad. But she was a woman, and I am horrendously gay.

I really want to break-up with Matthew, but I decide to be civil and settle for never speaking to him again. The news of me dating a boy, no matter how fake, seems to have upturned the entire school. I don’t mind it, the attention hasn’t been unbearable…but the questions do make it more difficult to stay in the closet. I’ve never tried to hide my sexuality, (okay, well I stopped trying to hide it once I learnt to accept it a few years ago. It was hard to hate that part of myself when Niall is also queer, and I could never hate that part of him. He gave me the strength to accept myself.) but I’ve just…never brought it up.

On Pride day every year the jocks cross-dress, it’s a tradition. I do it too. Now the thing is, I’m gay, but I don’t particularly cross-dress. It’s not like every queer person does. But the tradition stands to give homophobia a big ‘fuck you.’

But no one’s ever questioned my sexuality, at least not to me. It’s been harder to evade this week. A few people thanked me for not being homophobic about Matthew asking me out, and allowing him the same rules in the dare even though I’m straight. I just smiled at them in acknowledgement. The words ‘I’m not straight’ burning the tip of my tongue – but I was too cowardice to say anything. I’m sure there are plenty of homophobes, but since I had no say in the matter, I didn’t need to deal with them (as yet). In my chemistry class, a guy mentioned that he wanted to ask me out – live out fantasies through the dare, y’know? but he was certain I’d be mad about it. He asked if I’d mind if he asked me out the following week. I told him the truth, I didn’t mind. This whole dare is ridiculous, and if it can do a little good by helping Lily socialize or allow a cute gay nerd to come out and live out some high school fantasies, I’m all for it.

But staying in the closet is only getting harder. No one has asked me if I’m straight, but they’re all assuming it. To me. Not correcting them is beginning to feel just as shameful as lying. It’s easy to say that you’re not hiding your sexuality, that you’re just not broadcasting it when no one is suspicious. When people talk about your sexuality and your options are either telling the truth or fuel a lie, it’s a lot harder.

But today is a good day. After lunch (which is always really awkward because I speak to everyone at the table apart from Matthew, which I’m sure the team noticed) I simply block Matthew from my socials (there’s still a few hours left of our relationship, but I won’t see him until after school when we break up anyway) and mentally prepare myself to spend eighty minutes staring at Simon Snow on the pitch this evening.

***

* * *

**NIALL**

This is the closest thing to a date I’ve been on with Dev in a while. We’ve been busy between exams, university applications, and our sports schedules always clashing. He’s free Saturdays when I generally have games – he comes to my games, but I’m obviously busy during that time. He has church and family lunch on Sundays. And we’ve been studying every free moment we’ve got. Not to mention that I had been really preoccupied with Matthew as of late.

It’s been a while since we were like this. Relaxed. Both of us in the bleachers together. Watching a game neither of us are on the field for. Sharing a soda. Body contact, shoulder to knee.

I feel like melting into him, his fragrance hypnotizing.

Matthew does something impressive, I think. I’m not sure what. I wasn’t really paying attention – least of all to Matthew. But Matthew is getting his hair ruffled, and his arse smacked (rugby players are very affectionate – but they say it’s straight. It’s weird.), so I assume he did something.

For a few minutes, Matthew is the center of attention. Dev leans onto me and whispers in my ear, his breath tickles my earlobe, making me shiver.

“you okay?” he asks.

“perfect, why?” my voice is soft. this moment feels intimate. Baz is on the other side of Dev, but he’s mostly ignoring us, engaged in conversation with Penelope Bunce (she was already here when we arrived, and Baz wanted to sit with her. He’s fond of her). Dev cuts a glance at the field and then back at me in response.

I scoff, “I’m a big boy, I can watch an ex-boyfriend on the field without it hurting my feelings,” I’m about to roll my eyes when he cuts me off.

“boyfriend?”

I sigh, “almost-boyfriend, hookup, I don’t know _mon loup_ you were there, you knew what was going on.” He smiles at the pet name. He always has. When he asked me what it meant, I said it means wolf. We’ve always been like a little wolf pack. The world around us kept changing, but we were always us. And Dev was always protective over Baz and me. There wasn’t really an alpha, per se, but Dev was the protective one. Just like he’s trying to protect me right now. Even emotionally.

“Still, we can leave if you wanna. Even if it’s not too hard, but if you just don’t want to look at his stupid face, Baz will be fine with Penny – heck maybe he wants to leave too, I’m sure he’s seen enough of Matthew’s stupid –”

I sneak my around the back of his head to clamp my palm over his mouth.

“hush. I’m fine. We haven’t been out in forever, let’s just enjoy the game.”

He licks my palm, and I retaliate by wiping it on his cheek. He snaps at me, grazing my wrist with his teeth and I shove his face away, by the neck. Before this escalates into something erotic, we stop and turn back to the game.

But I’m certain we’re both slightly leaning into each other, an inch closer than we were before.

Shoulder to ankle.

Our pinkies grazing.

***

* * *

**BAZ**

Simon Snow is fucking brutal on the field. It’s amazing.

He’s this beautiful, fragile, stubborn boy. But on the field, he has this air of confidence I’ve never seen in him before. He plays one of the quarterback positions – I only know the basics – and fifteen minutes in I can tell that he’s one of the most talented players on the team (hardly a surprise since he’s captain, but he’s clearly compensating for other players). Every time he gets tackled or shoved, my stomach flips a little. I’ve watched Simon sport countless bruises, it’s even hot sometimes, but watching the process makes me nervous. Surely, he should have a concussion by now. Rugby is a bastard sport, Jesus. This is more erotic than a sport probably should be. But in my defence, I’m watching a cluster of sweaty, muscled, fit blokes in tight shorts, tackling each other.

Simon takes an elbow to the jaw. I already know he’s showing up to our lesson tomorrow with fresh bruises – the other player gets a yellow card. In football, that move would have gotten him benched immediately. No one seems too concerned though so I try to calm myself down. I probably seem intensely interested in the game (a glance at the scoreboard lets me know that the game is, in fact, interesting. The mages are behind by only a few points – nothing they can’t come back from) but really I’m just admiring Simon. I rarely get a chance to watch him so freely. Whenever I usually try, he catches me, and then I need to play it off by sneering at him, and he glares at me, and it becomes a whole thing.

I wonder what would happen if I could flirt by winking like a normal person.

Throughout the first half, both teams compete for the lead, taking it in turns. By half time, the mages are leading, but barely. They’re playing a good game, but their competition is an even match.

I take comfort in the knowledge that Simon will be playing the second half, too. If he was leaving at this point, there wouldn’t be a doubt in my mind that The Mages would lose the game. But both teams have a fighting chance right now. This could go either way.

Both teams return to the field refreshed, and with a few substitutes. They come back more aggressive than in the first half. Like they can taste victory already.

They fight for dominance, consistently exchanging the lead.

The Mages eventually scrape a win. A win they should dedicate to Simon. If he hadn’t played the second half, I’m certain they would have lost.

Matthew looks happy – he doesn’t look bitter by Simon taking back his captaincy. Either he suspects it’s temporary or this isn’t a battle for power.

Simon is on the shoulders of Matthew and Christopher (who is very hot but I suspect that he’s a mediocre player since he spent the entirety of this game as a benchwarmer) when he eventually (finally) notices me. He looks surprised. His cheeks flush – they’re somehow even darker now than they were after he spent 80 minutes being tackled.

We hold eye contact for a minute, and I can see the wheels in his brain working. He’s wondering why I’m here. Of course, he can’t just ask me – I’m just watching our team rugby game, there’s nothing to suggest I’m here to antagonize him. there’s nothing to suggest I’m plotting anything – as he so often accuses me of.

I hold eye contact, I won’t break first.

We play this game whenever he’s at my practice.

But I’m used to looking for him during football practice, unless he has practice as well. He's not used to me in his stands.

He has to break first as his teammates lower him to the ground.

**SIMON**

_Baz came to my game_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baz is the biggest DeNiall shipper ever
> 
> Next Chapter (Wednesday): Study Session take two


	11. The Absence of Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz is introduced to a Pumpkin Mocha Breve  
> Simon is introduced to Daphne  
> Butterflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to everyone who previously educated me that Baz's favourite drink is the Pumpkin Mocha Breve

**Saturday, November 21st**

**BAZ**

> _“I’ll pick you up at 12, and we can start around 1”_

What the fuck was I thinking?

I thought that perhaps after a 7-hour shift, Simon could use a break before we get down to work. Why I thought he’d want to spend that break with _me_ , of all people, I have no idea. I decide to compromise and arrive at Starbucks around 12:30. I’m driving the Porsche today- It’s less douchey to pick someone up from a café in a sports car than to park your sports car outside a café. Or so Niall tells me.

Also, it’s raining.

Jogging through the glass doors with my coat pulled above my hair, I spot Simon on the couch in the corner, a cup in his hand and a scowl on his face. He spots me and glares. Why is he agitated _already_? I just got here.

Across from Simon – on the other side of the table – lies a Frappuccino with mostly melted whipped cream, and my name on it. ‘Baz’, not ‘Tyrannus’ - Simon made it for me. I plop down on the couch across his own and scoop up my drink, taking a long, savoured gulp. It’s not my regular, but it’s unexpectedly better. I can’t pinpoint the drink from the menu, and I’ve tried most of them. I close my eyes in appreciation as I devour an indecently long sip. I’m pretty sure I even moan.

“This is heavenly, Snow, what is it? I don’t know this one.”

Simon proceeds to glare at me. I can’t be rude to him while indulging in this much sugar, so I just take another long sip. When I open my eyes again, the drink is half empty, and I’m smiling slightly. Simon is giving me this look that pretty much says _‘really?’_

“What’s the matter Snow, cat got your tongue?” I try to antagonize him, but the words are entirely without bite. “And what is this divine beverage? I’ve never tasted it, but I think I’m in love,”

**SIMON**

If you want to tame a beast; you give it sugar, apparently. At least if that beast is Baz. I’ve been trying to be mad at him since he strutted in here, but he’s completely distracted by his drink. It’s like he’s on a sugar high – he’s _smiling_ , not a malicious ‘I’m plotting your demise’ type of smile, it’s a sincere childlike happy smile, it’s…it’s rather cute, to be honest. I don’t think he even realises that I’ve been glaring at him for the last seven minutes. He’s practically hypnotised.

_Note to self: Give Basilton sugar every time you need him to stop being an arse._

Maybe he’s just generally sugar-deprived, which is why he’s so agitated. It would make sense. He’s always better behaved (and nicer) after I give him frappes and pastries. 

“It’s a Pumpkin Mocha Breve, and you don’t deserve it.”

“Why not?” he pouts. Baz Pitch is pouting because I said he doesn’t deserve his Frappucino. What is happening?

“I’ve been waiting here for, like, a half-hour Basilton,” I try to keep my voice as stern as I can but his softness is ruining my tantrum.

“I know, I thought you’d be delighted,” Baz says. He’s not even teasing me; he seems to mean it. I’m confused.

**BAZ**

“What?” Simon snaps at me. He’s in a really foul mood. Someone should give him a Pumpkin mocha breve.

**SIMON**

“I realised after we spoke that you probably need a break after working such a long shift so I thought I’d give you some time before I show up,” he reasons.

“You said we’d start the lesson at _one_ , Baz, and you said you’d be here at _twelve_. That’s a one-hour break before we start! I waited for, like, a half-hour!”

“I didn’t think you were _waiting_ for me; I thought you’d enjoy your alone time before you need to deal with _me._ ”

“I made you a Frappuccino!”

“And I am really enjoying it,” Baz gazes fondly at his mostly empty cup.

I sigh. It’s impossible to fight with Baz when he’s like this (my own fault). Him not fighting back is one thing – he does that sometimes when he’s pretending that I’m not even worth fighting back – but right now he’s just…harmless. Without guile. A kitten.

I concede, “you should have sent me a text if you were running late,”

Finally, he makes eye contact with me, pushing his empty cup aside. He slings one leg over the other and settles deeper into the couch. “I wasn’t really late,” Baz explains, “I just thought… you had a long day. I thought you’d need a break before I began picking at your brain, and you _hate_ me, so I figured... you’d rather _not_ spend that break _with_ me or any more time than you absolutely need to. I know you just came to me for help with biology, and you probably don’t want to spend time with me unnecessarily, but you wouldn’t say it to be polite,”

I’m shocked into silence.

What he’s saying…it’s wrong. But it also makes sense, and that makes me sad. Do I hate Baz? Still? Have I ever?

Has anything even changed? And if I don’t hate him, and nothing has changed, does that mean that I never truly hated him?

I have no idea.

“well, I _didn’t_ enjoy my break because I spent it _waiting for you_ , so I’ll be back with snacks. We can have a bite to eat and then get going,” I decide. “Do you want anything in particular?”  
“I’m good,” he shakes his head.

I bring him a good old-fashioned London Style tea – he needs to sober up after his sugary joyride – and a slice of red velvet cake. This is technically me repaying him for his lessons (which are definitely helping), and he's been kind enough to accommodate me on my schedule, so I might as well spoil him as best I can. We’re silent as we nibble and watch the rain outside.

“You always bring me something different,” he eventually comments.

I shrug, “I don’t particularly know what you prefer, so I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“And what have you figured out?” he raises an eyebrow at me. He’s trying to be intimidating, but after his sugar-induced episode earlier I don’t think he’ll ever intimidate me again.

“I figured you preferred the chocolate and cream croissant over the red velvet cake. And I _know_ I got it right with the Pumpkin mocha,” I smirk, “you liked it more than your regular,”

He nods, “the red velvet cake is appreciated - not my favourite cake though, and yes I'll hand you that victory – that drink was amazing. I don’t think I’ve seen it on the menu before, though, is it new?”

“S _omething like that_. I created it today.”

“You created that heavenly substance?” his eyebrows are drawn up in genuine surprise, his eyes are wide open.

“You seemed to be picking the sweetest things on the menu; I thought I’d try all our sweetest ingredients together and then…that thing was born.”

He’s silent for a moment. His face betraying blatant astonishment. “you… created a drink… for me?”

“And it tastes like a blended candy bar,” I crinkle my nose.

**BAZ**

I think I’m malfunctioning.

I think I forgot how to think.

I think Simon Snow is doing it again. He’s drawing me in, to the edge of the precipice, preparing me to fall all over again. And then just when I’m about to jump, the ground beneath me crumbles, and I’m reminded of the harsh truths of this life. That Simon Snow is straight, and that even if he weren’t, he would never choose _me_.

**SIMON**

We finish our …brunch? And then I grab my backpack as we head outside. I have no idea how long we have because it’s 13:17 when we get into his car (he brought the Porsche today; I assume because of the rain) and we were supposed to study from 13:00 to 14:00.

He turns the heat on in the car. I don’t really need it; I don’t get cold easily. But instead of saying anything I just shrug out of my jacket (it’s faded blue denim. It’s my favourite jacket; Penny bought it for one of my birthday’s. it’s a little snug these days but it’s still my favourite) which is damp anyway.

“You aren’t cold?” Baz asks as he glances over. Riding shotgun in his Porsche is very different from riding on the back of his motorcycle, I’m not sure which I prefer. You’d think this would be more comfortable …but when we take the Ducati, we’re both distracted by the intense feeling of riding a motorcycle. It’s intense and intimate for those few minutes until it’s over and we don’t mention it again. I’m feeling nervous in the Porsche. It still feels oddly intimate in the warm, tiny space (sports cars are surprisingly snug) as London rain sloshes down the windows. There’s little to distract me from watching Baz, or him from noticing me watch him. I feel like we should be making conversation, but words seem to have evaded me. We leave London and arrive at Hampshire after a silent drive. It was awkward at first, but soon enough, we fell into a comfortable and companionable quiet.

I grab my backpack and follow Baz into his house. A polite, elegant-looking beautiful woman catches me off guard. This is Baz’s family house, so I don’t know why I’m so thrown by running into his family … but the place seemed deserted last week, and I wasn’t prepared for this confrontation. Do they even know I’m here? Are they okay with it?

“Mother,” Baz addresses the polite lady, “this is Simon Snow, my colleague,” he turns to glance at me, “Snow, this is my step-mother, Daphne.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Simon,” polite lady – Daphne – embraces me in a warm hug. I’m not used to being hugged like this. Penny and I hug all the time, but that’s different. Penny is small. Her head reaches my chest, and it feels like… like I’m protecting her from the world. Agatha was taller, but our hugs were…something else entirely. But polite lady’s hugs feel protective. I’ve never felt protected by someone else before. This is strange.

“Hi, ma’am, it’s so nice to meet you,” I mumble into her hair. It smells nice.

Am I crushing on Baz’s stepmother? No, no, I don’t think so. I’ve had plenty of crushes, and this is nothing like those. I’m not sure what this is, but the hug was over way too soon. I was really enjoying her embrace…which is an odd thought to have about your friend’s mother.

Is Baz my friend? – one crisis at a time, Simon.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” I continue as she lets me go.

“Oh, not at all!” she says, “Basil never brings any friends home except Dev and Niall! – unless he’s kicking us out for the night to throw a huge party” she fondly scolds him.

“I literally only do that once a year, Mother,” I’ve never heard his tone this …polite. “And I’m Snow’s biology tutor, I just thought we’d be more comfortable here,” he explains.

I’m sure Daphne has a lot of questions about that, but she graciously nods at him, and after a few more pleasantries, we’re making our way to the third floor.

“You didn’t warn me that I’d be running into your family!” I hiss at him.

Baz raises an eyebrow at me, “surely you didn’t assume I live in this big house by myself, Snow,”

I roll my eyes, “I didn’t, I guess it just didn’t occur to me that I’d run into your family since last week we didn’t.”

“We were earlier last week,” Baz explains, “the kids were probably sleeping in, and my parents must have been around here somewhere, but we didn’t linger, we just never ran into them,”

“And their okay with me being here?”

Baz just shrugs, “I don’t exactly need to ask permission,”

Baz leads the way to the Greenhouse, and I wish I could say that knowing what to expect has made it less mesmerizing. If anything, after dreaming about returning all week and not knowing if I ever would, it’s even better this time. An aura of peace overcomes me as I walk into the room, my mind settles.

Baz looks me over, “You really like it here,” a smile tugs at his lips but it’s more genuine than teasing.

“It’s hard to describe,” I shrug.

“Try.” He leads us to the table we worked at last week, his books and study material are already set up on his side. I settle in across from him.

“It feels like…” I take a breath. Exhale. “– the absence of chaos.”

Baz considers me for a moment but nods without saying more. He starts skimming through his session plan as I unpack my own study materials – including the study guide he gave me – from my backpack.

“Did you bring it?”

“I did,” I smile while passing over yesterdays biology quiz on the reproductive system.

Baz takes a look at it, and his mouth slightly curls upwards – you’d miss it if you weren’t looking for it.

64%

“Good to know I’m not wasting my time,” he says, but his voice holds a tone of pride in it. “Good work, Snow. We only had two sessions, and you already improved by over 10%.”

“It was a very helpful two sessions, and I worked with the flashcards and study guide in my free time, thank you, Baz.” The moment is silent, fragile. Neither of us knows what to do now. We’re being uncharacteristically nice to each other; we don’t know the protocol.

“So, eight anatomical systems are being focused on in our syllabus,” Baz starts, “every week is a new section and we write a test on it at the end of the week. Our exam will test all the systems again. So, we’re going to keep these tests, and when we’re done studying each system individually, we’re going to redo these tests and try to master them before the exam. Questions are often repeated.”

I nod.

“Also, you’re getting homework every Sunday from now on,”

I frown and nod.

**BAZ**

I’m proud of Simon. I can tell he’s been working with the extra material I gave him. He’s been _trying_.

We’ve been working for about a half-hour when I leave him with a short task while I fetch us refreshments. He’s done with his task and has wandered to a bunch of orange flowers. He looks over at me when he hears my footsteps. A gleaming smile dominates his bruised face.

“Look, Baz! I never noticed them last week because the flowers are the same colour, but there’s a swarm of butterflies camouflaged all around them.”

“A _kaleidoscope_ of butterflies - and they're probably camouflaged for a reason, Snow.”

His face falls, “oh, I hope I haven’t upset them.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Follow me.” I lead him to the other end of the Greenhouse where there are more flowers and flat rocks for them to land on. The butterflies here are different colours, Blue and yellow as well as orange. Simon’s face lights up again. I call him over and make him sit on a large, flat rock next to the plants. “Now, look…. less threatening. Here, open your palms and rest them on your knees.” He obeys. “Stay absolutely still. Breathe as slow as possible. Don’t move.” I back away so I’m not intimidating them. After about three minutes I think it’s not going to work and I’m just wasting our study hour when finally, a large yellow butterfly starts fluttering around his head. I speak slowly, and just loud enough for him to hear me “okay now do not move Simon, you’ll scare them away.” I’m pretty sure he stops breathing altogether, but he listens to me. When he doesn’t move, the other butterflies deem him safe. A few more butterflies start fluttering about.

“There’s a butterfly on your shirt, Simon.” He looks down. “No, no, it’s on the back of your shirt, but if you stay still, I’m sure more will – oh there’s a blue one on your hair now.”

“Why don’t they want to land where I can actually see them,” he says it so softly I barely hear him, but it’s enough to startle them, and they flutter away.

Simon has a soft smile for the rest of the hour.

**SIMON**

The endocrine system is significantly more difficult than the reproductive system, albeit less awkward to study with Baz. Baz is still uncharacteristically patient and helpful with me; I’m beginning to think this might be a plot. But plot or not, it’s definitely helping my grades, so I guess I’ll keep feeding him sugary drinks until he’s sick of me. I don’t know _why_ he’s being so civil, but I appreciate it. It’s unexpected, but I enjoy the time we spend together in his Greenhouse – and it’s not just the Greenhouse, it’s hanging out with him too. He’s different when it’s just us.

Baz praises me for my grades on the last quiz and says he expects a 70% on the next one. That’s a bit of a steep ask – students who can get 70% don’t really need tuitions – but I’ll keep working with the material he gave me and try to make him proud. He was proud of me today - I like the feeling.

It’s 14:30 when Baz and I start packing up.

“So, where should I drop you off, Snow?”

“You called me Simon before,” he did. When we played with the butterflies (never would I ever have thought that I’d be casually playing with butterflies with Baz Pitch).

Baz rolls his eyes. Baz rolls his eyes a lot. “Where should I drop you off, _Snow_?”

I shake my head, suppressing a laugh “Starbucks is fine, thanks,”

“I thought your shifts over?” It is. But I still have hours to kill until curfew, and I’d rather not spend all day there.

“It is, I’ll just study there,”

“Oh…” Baz regards me with an expression I can’t describe, “how will you get home when you’re done?”

“Same way I got there? I’ll walk, it’s not too far,”

“It’s raining cats and dogs,”

“It’s England.” It’s not like I’ve never had to walk through the rain before, bloody rich people.

“Well…yeah…” Baz opens and closes his mouth, but no words escape for a few moments. “you know…you could just study here, and then when you’re done, I can drive you home,”

I have no idea how to respond to this. I was not expecting this.

“No, really Baz it’s okay. I really really appreciate your offer, like you don’t even know,” I’m rambling, “but it’s fine. I walk through the rain like three times a week,” I chuckle. This isn’t really a big deal. It rains all the time here, and I don’t have a car, how did he think us peasants got around?

“Yes, but you don’t need to this time, and you prefer the greenhouse anyway! What if your corner is taken? It probably is, it’s late,”

“Then I’ll jog to Penny’s, really Baz; I do this all the time,”

“That’s an even farther walk!” Why does Baz even know where Penny lives.

“That’s not a problem! I keep an umbrella at the café.”

Baz sighs. “I won’t leave you somewhere in my fancy-ass sports car so that you can walk 20 minutes in the rain!

I soften my voice, “This is hardly a new situation for me, Baz, it’s almost always raining, and I have places I need to go, it’s not a big deal.”

Baz sighs. “I’ll drive you to Starbucks if you check that the table is free and text me, so if it’s not free I’m already there and can give you a ride to Penny’s.”

“Deal.” I’ll just tell him it’s free regardless. He’s being ridiculous.

“And call me when you’re done, and I’ll give you a ride home,” what is this guy’s deal.

“It will be late. I’m sure you have more to do on your Saturday night than chauffer me around,”

“What time will you study until?”

“Around half 7, to be home for curfew,”

“I know you need to be home at a certain time, but I really don’t think you absolutely need to stay out until that time,” I just shrug. It’s voluntary.

He does the thing again—the thing where he’s watching me carefully but doesn’t say much. “Are you sure you don’t just want to study here? I’ll stay out of your way and give you a ride later,” I’m starving, and I’m not asking him for food, so, no.

“Thank you for offering, Baz,” I smile at him, “but I’ll be okay.”

“So, you’ll call me when you’re ready for a ride home?”

“I will not.” He frowns but stops pressing. “I do this all the time Baz. It’s just a little rain, no biggie,”

It’s actually a lot of rain today. Above us, the raindrops splatter against the high, glass dome roof. Like everything else here – including the stubborn boy in front of me – it’s beautiful. Eventually, Baz concedes, and we drive back to Starbucks. He comes in for tea and a sandwich, and we have lunch by the first-floor window while watching the rain.

“What time tomorrow?” Baz asks.

“Same as today.” 

He nods. Chews. He speaks again after a minute, “Do you want me here at 12 or 1?” he asks. He looks nervous.

I subtly smile at my turkey sandwich, “12.”

He nods. There’s a barely visible smile evident in his features too.

I’m done before Baz, so he tells me to check on the table while he finishes his tea. It’s not free. But he’s already gone out of his way for me for enough; I’m not going to ask for more favours.

> _**Baz Pitch** _
> 
> _(15:25) Simon Snow: it’s free_ _😊_
> 
> _(15:26) Simon Snow: thank you for today, it helped a lot_
> 
> _(15:26) Simon Snow: See you tomorrow_
> 
> _(15:27) Baz: See you at twelve._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon: is it okay if I come over to study?
> 
> Penny: 'course
> 
> Penny: seat taken?
> 
> Simon: yeah
> 
> Penny: I'll get the hairdryer ready 
> 
> Simon: x


	12. Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's theme song is 'Rewrite the Stars' by James Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> So, I just thought I should clarify the grading and education system referenced for this AU.
> 
> I'm from Africa so I used the African Education syllabus and grading system. Since we're a third-world region, the education level provided here isn't as competent as the education level of first-world countries (obviously) so the pass mark here is 50%. 70% is a B, 80% is an A and 90% is an A+
> 
> That is why even though Simon only got 52% in his first test, he still passed. I hadn't realized that the grading system in England is probably different...but hopefully this clears up the confusion :)

**Sunday, November 22 nd **

**DEV**

Sunday is family day which means that I don’t get to see Niall or Baz - who _actually is family (_ so I guess its immediate family day). Consequently, Niall, Baz and I have hung out on Saturdays - either at one of our houses or more recently at Niall’s matches- for as long as I can remember. Baz said he’d catch up with us in the evening because he was tutoring Snow at midday today– that’s a thing with him now, going out of his way for Snow. I don’t know if I should be concerned about that as yet.

The cold wakes me up – the fireplace must have burned out. I’m lying in bed, lost in thought at 5 am. I should be leaving for Church soon, but I can’t keep the thoughts of the previous day from my mind. I don't particularly want to. They're good thoughts. 

I slept in yesterday and awoke to Niall jumping on my bed.

“This thing is older than I am, you numpty,” I mumbled into my pillow as Niall finally stopped jumping – content with waking me from my slumber – and landed on the pillow next to me after one final bounce. Niall in my bed first thing in the morning was not helping my self-control.

“Well, it’s not _my_ fault you sleep like the dead. I’ve been trying to wake you up for ten minutes,”

“WHY.” I’m not a morning person. He doesn’t care. He just laughed.

“Baz has Snow until later, and I’m bored,” he grumbled, rolling on his side and facing me.

We were nose-to-nose in this very bed. I can almost still smell his cologne. Niall has always been an early bird, which meant that he showed up at my house at 7 am on a Saturday morning when I had no commitments and merely wanted to sleep in.

“Baz’s session isn’t for a few hours,”

“But if I go _there,_ he’ll just kick me out – they’re studying at his house. And you know he needs a few hours to get ready to see Snow,” he laughed. In all fairness, Baz _does_ stress out about his outfit and hair before his recent lessons with Snow - even though Snow has no fashion sense and doesn’t care or appreciate Baz’s aesthetic efforts. Maybe this is something I should be more concerned about.

“And I _won’t_ kick you out?”

Niall grinned, “not a chance,”

He wasn’t wrong. He smirked as I scoffed, “you can stay if you shut up and let me sleep,”

His smirk turned softer; a genuine smile, “way ahead of you,” he pulled out the book he was currently reading – 'Red, White and Royal Blue' – and got comfy as I dozed off into a sleep far more peaceful than I’d previously occupied.

I drifted in and out of sleep for the next few hours, but it was peaceful. Sometimes certain things drew me to semi-consciousness; Niall huffing a laugh or turning the page. I remember his fingers carding through my hair as I slept – he does that to Baz and me sometimes – but I’m not sure if it was a dream or not. When I woke at 11 am, I was snuggled into Niall’s side, my arm draped loosely across his waist. His book was on the floor, and his head and back rested against the wall – he’d fallen asleep while reading. His left arm hung off the bed and his right arm was draped around my back. I should have woken him up. Instead, I snuggled closer and pretended to be asleep until he woke up 20 minutes later and untangled us.

I sigh. Getting lost in daydreams of my best friend is becoming too often an occurrence. Rain plummets against my vintage windows, the London air is chilly enough that I feel it under my thick blanket and silky pyjamas. Crawling out of bed, I gather my church clothes and head for the shower – blonde hair and green eyes occupying my thoughts.

***

* * *

**SIMON**

Baz’s greenhouse is my serendipity.

I told Penny about it yesterday; she thinks I’m obsessed with it. I feel like that’s kind of harsh, but it’s better than her previous assessment that I’m obsessed with Baz in general. I’d already mentioned vaguely that we’d studied there, but I indulged her as she dried me yesterday. Seriously – Penny uses her hairdryer on my _whole body_.

Baz’s Greenhouse is quite possibly my favourite setting. The most tranquil spectacle I’ve ever visited in my life. I hope he appreciates it. I never thought I’d find a safe haven in the home of my enemy, but there are really pretty butterflies there.

Penny didn’t believe me at first when I told her that Baz and I played with butterflies, and then she _did_ believe me but was concerned, and now she just wants to see the Greenhouse. 

Being surrounded by the flora feels almost alien. When I’m here, my problems feel so small. I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. I feel happy and comfortable and …not judged. I don’t need to put up a front for anyone.

And the surprising part is, I’m not in here alone like I was in my study corner at Starbucks – my previous favourite place. It's not the solitude that brings me peace like it is for Penny. Having Baz here with me doesn’t affect the ambience. I like the Baz he is when we’re here, alone, hanging out in his Greenhouse. It’s like…there’s a weight off his shoulders too. He’s not trying to be anyone or impress anyone either.

Within these walls, we can just be us.

And I like _this us_.

But then before you know it…it’s Monday again.

And Baz is someone else’s boyfriend by 8 am.

And I don’t see _that_ Baz – _Greenhouse_ Baz – _my_ Baz, for five more days.

***

* * *

**Monday, November 23 rd **

**NIALL**

Matthew asking Baz out appears to have started some type of _queer frenzy_ which would be _hilarious_ if it wasn’t mildly terrifying – and I say this as a queer person.

Dev specifically articulated the rules hoping that some smartass bloke would read between the lines, find the loophole and allow Baz his first boyfriend without him _actually_ needing to come-out as yet. Clearly, Dev fucked it up.

We hadn’t previously realised that one guy successfully asking Baz Pitch out made every other male in the Watford Senior class realise that they too have a chance to date Baz Pitch if they desire it. And they do, apparently.

At this point, anyone is fair game as long as their a Senior, which is a problem. The dare was already overwhelming, but this week…things are mildly out of control.

The rules dictate that Baz must date the first person to ask him out _after first bell_ on Monday morning. This lead to the cheer squad coming to practice to catch him _as soon as first bell rang_ , even before first period. Last week that progressed to Matthew asking Baz out during first bell, in the _changeroom_.

And this week it led to three guys trying to ask Baz out all at the same time during first bell while semi-nude in the changeroom, scaring Baz, and starting a fight.

Baz missed practice this morning to sit in the principals' office as he tried to explain the circumstances of the fight – or so Dev tells me (I don’t attend non-compulsory practice, cricket practice starts unnecessarily early). Jackson has a busted lip, Jarred has a bleeding (and possibly broken) nose, and Ethan – who everyone previously thought was straight – has a black eye. Baz looks like a deer in headlights (he’s usually confident and unaffected, but three hot and semi-nude guys are apparently his undoing). We might all get suspended if the Mage doesn’t take to this dare too well.

***

* * *

**AGATHA**

I didn’t want to have to do this, but, “Who’s Basil dating this week?” I sweetly ask Simon. Penny and Simon are sitting across from me eating their matching lunches (no one ever offers to pack a matching lunch for _me)._ It would probably be more pleasant to ask Penelope. Still, from the two of them, it’s obvious who has a greater likeliness of knowing. I try to make it sound conversational in hopes they don’t realise that I actually _want_ to know. They’d assume it’s because I want to date Baz – I don’t even know if I _want_ to date Baz or if I just feel like I _should want_ to date Baz – they don’t know that I need to find out because I’m running a secret ‘Date me, Baz Pitch!’ page on Facebook.

It’s very popular. I want to be a publicist, this just felt like a good power move. Everyone is looking for something to spice up their college CV’s, and they overlook me. Everyone also follows this page. No one knows it’s mine.

If only they know.

Streams of comments have been coming through for the last hour. I usually update the list by first period, and now it’s lunch!

“three guys asked Baz out in the changeroom, literally during the first bell,” Simon all but growls, “I don’t know who he ended up saying yes to because it ended up in a brawl and all four of them got sent to Principle Mage.”

“I heard from Lily,” Penelope cuts in (I swear they’re like Thing 1 and Thing 2. I guess that makes me the Cat in the Hat.) “that the cheer squad showed up at practice to ask Baz out again, as they do, but he wasn’t there,”

“principles office,” Simon reiterates around a bite of his roti roll.

“so no one knows who he’s dating?”

“check that Facebook page,” Penny tells me, “it always updates before any of us know,”

I’m flattered, Penelope, I truly am – you are however of no help to me.

***

* * *

**BAZ**

So here’s the thing that I think a lot of people missed.

The story going around the school is that three guys asked me out at once, got into a fight over me, and then we all went to the principles office. This is not entirely accurate.

No one asked me out. Jackson was in the shower talking to his friend (who I don’t know because they’re lacrosse players – I only know Jackson on account of his astounding hotness) about how he intends to ‘pull a Matthew’ on me. Ethan proceeded to call dibs on me. Jarred was literally just walking towards me, looking kind of nervous while all this was happening. Someone yelled out that while Ethan and Jackson are arguing, Jarred is going to trap me. Ethan shoved Jarred to stop him and then it all just got out of hand, fists were thrown and then our respective coaches threw us all out. 

But no one actually asked me out. No one bothered asking me out afterwards because news travelled around the school that three guys already asked me out and everyone's waiting to see who I say yes to – who asked _first_.

But no one asked at all!

What a confusing way to lose a bet.

The boys meet me at the cafeteria at break, and they’re awaiting instruction. They’d like to know where we’re eating this week.

I sigh. “none of them actually reached the point of asking me out,”

Realisation dawns on Dev, “oh yes! They just started playing whack-a-mole at each other and didn’t give each other a chance!” Dev looks astonished. It _is_ pretty ridiculous.

“And then no one else bothered because they’d all heard what happened and assumed they’d missed their chance,” I explain while sipping my chocolate milk. I lead the lads outside. Everyone's watching us, trying to figure out who I’m dating by the table I sit at. I can’t deal with the attention right now. I missed practice, so I have too much pent up energy.

"How did it go with the Mage? I don't really know if the dare breaks any school rules or not but I can't imagine it's welcome," Niall frowns at me. 

I smirk, "He never found out about the dare," 

Dev raises an eyebrow at me. At times like this, I remember that we're family. "How in hell did you explain _that_ situation?" 

I shrug, feigning nonchalance, "Well, I managed to put some clothes on while the three of them were going at it. Jackson especially was wrapped in a _towel_ \- he was still in the shower! Anyway, as the only clothed candidate, the Mage settled for addressing me only and he asked me to explain," I smirk, "I just told him that Jackson, Jarred and Ethan were fighting over me. I didn't mention the dare at all, none of them - bless them - said anything about it. They didn't seem particularly upset with my summary, I think they caught on. The Mage can't really reprimand any of us for anything without sounding like a raging homophobe, they just got detention for fighting and then he kicked us out to get dressed and head to class,"

"You fucking legend," Dev grabs me by the back of the neck and shakes me. 

Niall smiles, "next course of action, what do we do about your date for the week?"

“you’re going to lose if no one asks you,” Dev looks genuinely concerned as if I wouldn’t be losing the bet to him.

It’s weird. He’s been one of the (two) most supportive people through this bet, and it’s literally against him. I don’t think he cares about winning. I think he feels bad about the position he put me in and he’s just trying to make it as pleasant an experience as he can.

I shrug, “it’s been only three weeks, but I am damn exhausted. I could use a break. I’ll just ask one of our friends to Prom.”

“Lily?”

“she’s got a boyfriend I think,”

“you should ask Bunce,”

“that’s not a bad idea,”

Niall cuts off my and Dev’s conversation with a groan, “you are not losing this bet on a miscommunication, Dev will never shut up about his mighty win.”

“This is true,” Dev nods thoughtfully “, but it’s not my fault no one asked Baz out, I played fair.”

“but no one knows Baz is still available, we all know you’ll get asked out if you explain,”

“maybe he can start a whole riot in the cafeteria,” Dev suggests,

“or maybe I’ll end up dating another person I can’t stand for a week, the only person I actually enjoyed spending time with this week was Lily, and that’s because she’s a friend and we weren’t serious about it, it was like taking a week off,”

“so take another week off then, anything to keep this guy from winning,” Niall smirks, cutting a sideways glance at Dev who is rolling his eyes but smirks right back.

“I don’t have any more friends willing to date me for fun, and I can’t exactly ask them to, I don’t think that’s allowed, it has to be voluntary,”

Niall sighs dramatically, “Date me Baz Pitch,” he says in a completely monotone, disinterested voice. I’m still shocked, though.

“no,” I say incredulously.

“You say no, you lose the bet,” Dev reminds me, a wide grin covering his face.

I roll my eyes, “he’s not serious, Dev.”

“oh! So Matthew can get a yes, but I get a no? am I not good enough for you Bazzy? Is it my height? Is it my subpar cricket skills?”

I roll my eyes more. “I’m not dating you, Niall, it’s weird!”

Niall just laughs, “just do it, you numpty. It will be a week off for all of us. You’re eating with me at lunch and giving me lifts home anyway. No difference,”

I think about it. He’s got a point. I cut Dev a look…he’s the reason I’m on the fence. He winks at me. He knows there’s nothing to worry about with Niall.

I roll my eyes, “fine,” I whine. “like old times. Just the three of us against the world, it’s been a while.”

Dev throws an arm around each of us, and we stride back to our old table and catch up about our day’s. I tell them about Simon’s sessions. Dev tells us about family day yesterday. Niall tells us more about France and complains about the university not getting back to him.

And for the first time in a long time, I think this might be a good week.

**AGATHA**

> **_Date me, Baz Pitch!_ **
> 
> _Week Four: Niall Demaury_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dozen chapters!! Do you guys have any questions? How are we feeling about the original characters thus far? 
> 
> Next chapter will be next week Sunday x


	13. bon voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall gets a lot of attention and Dev scratches Satan's head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just now (13 chapters into a fanfic heavily dominated by DeNiall) realised that I do not know what Dev stands for. Am I supposed to know this? I am fairly certain that it is not in the books. 
> 
> Did Rainbow tell us? Idk. I just...gave him a name, it was necessary. If I, however, gave him the wrong name and he already has a name, please correct me in the comments and I'll update. 
> 
> AKA Me 13 chapters in: what the fuck is one of the main characters' names?

**Friday, November 27 th**

* * *

_The University of Burgundy is pleased to grant Niall Demaury a provisional acceptance and bursary in BA English and Literature, pending final results._

* * *

**NIALL**

I’m shocked. I’m in shock.

> ** Minions **
> 
> _Post-game dinner tonight?_
> 
> _My treat_
> 
> _Got news._
> 
> _(05:24)_
> 
> _(05:54) Baz: Post-break-up dinner?_
> 
> _Harsh._
> 
> _(05:54)_

Baz and I are still technically dating which is in no way different from the last decade of friendship except that we make shitty jokes about being boyfriends.

> _(05:55) Dev: I won’t say no to your treat_
> 
> _(05:55) Dev: Good news?_
> 
> _Wait and see._
> 
> _(06:00)_
> 
> _(06:05) Baz: Sounds good_
> 
> _(06:06) Baz: Am I fetching anyone today?_
> 
> _(06:08) Dev: ME._
> 
> _You don’t really have a choice but to fetch_ me _, lover._
> 
> _(06:10)_

I received the email from one of the – many – universities that I applied to in France. Really, I just want to go to France, any of the universities would do, I didn’t even have a preference.

It’s always been my dream to go to France. We have family on my father’s side there. My surname originated there. And yet I, myself, have never visited the country.

It’s hard to describe really, I’ve just always yearned for it. Travel lust, but for France in specific. It’s… irrational, but I almost feel like it’s just something I need to do in my life. Like that’s when I’ll find myself. Where I’ll find myself. When I’ll feel content.

I don’t even know how I feel right now. When you wish for something so hard and then you actually get it…how are you supposed to feel?

Elated?

Happy?

Excited?

…Terrified?

Right now, I feel…numb. Probably in a good way, but numb. Like I’m not certain if this is real and if I should allow myself to feel it. What if it’s taken away, now, when I’m so close? Could I handle that?

It feels fragile like if I do the wrong thing or tell the wrong person it might be taken away from me. And not getting something this important to you is manageable but getting and then losing it… is less endurable. 

I haven’t even told anyone. I haven’t spoken a word since I got up. I saw the email and texted the boys.

I saw my mum and kissed her cheek. I should tell her first, but she’ll be so excited, and she’ll start calling all our family – in France and not – and it will just become real immediately.

I think I just need to be quietly happy a little while longer.

Baz shows up for me as I’m shoveling cornflakes into my mouth. Not for the first time, I take my yellow cereal bowl with me to the front seat of the Porsche (Baz knows the drill by now, he doesn’t

even bat an eye).

He’s picked me up before Dev, even though Dev’s house is between ours, which either means that Dev

wasn’t ready (probable) or Baz thinks I have gossip for him that Dev can’t hear as yet (most likely).

Baz greets me and we pull into the road and we’re practically cruising.

“Is there a reason we’re driving on 10?”

“I assumed you’d want some time to share this news with me before Dev gets here, and it’s either this or we drive around the block five times,”

“Oh? And what makes you think you’re getting the news before Dev?”

Baz gives me a side-eye, “Don’t I always?”

I scoff, “When it’s _about_ _Dev_ , sure, but I’m afraid this time you’re going to have to wait for tonight, when I tell both of you, like a mere peasant,” I smirk at him.

He laughs but he speeds up to a normal velocity, “okay so if it’s not about Dev then I think I know what this is about,” and his smile only grows in excitement.

“do you now?”

Baz casts me his Cheshire-cat-smile – teeth and all – “ Yep, but I won’t say anything, I’ll allow you your grand announcement later on but we’re getting wine drunk later,”

The only classy way to get drunk, according to Baz. He’s not wrong.

We pull into Dev’s driveway a minute later and he jumps over the back door into the back seat (the convertible is down today since we have decent weather – a very rare thing because it’s almost always raining in England and when it’s not, Baz hates the Sun. He’s particularly partial to cloudy-yet-dry days, that doesn’t mess up his hair or burn him. Baz is very high maintenance. Regardless, it’s cloudy today.)

“Did you get it? Are you in?” Dev frantically gets out while shaking my shoulders from the back seat as I desperately try to contain my cereal.

“If one milk drop gets _anywhere_ on this car – Dev you are cleaning this _entire_ vehicle”

Dev differs to grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging, “ _Did you get in Nemo_??”

“Did I get in – aah – where??”

“Oh don’t play coy with me, Niall boy, did you hear back from any Universities or not? That’s what this news is about, yeah?? I swear if you’re building up the anticipation to tell me you’ve taken Matthew back - ”

Baz cuts Dev off when he bursts out laughing – a fair reaction considering how ludicrous Dev’s insinuation is,

“There there,” I laugh, “Matthew’s days are over,”

“And technically _we_ are still dating so I will be _deeply_ offended if you _cheat on me_ with _Matthew_ ,” Baz exaggerates a grimace.

“So then it must be about France tell me,” Dev is pulling at my hair with a lot more force now and it’s mildly erotic.

I glance at Baz, “I see he’s taking a very different approach from you,”

“and what approach may that be?” Dev asks from the backseat.

Baz glances at him in the rearview mirror, “Not bombarding Niall with questions – even if we suspect what the news is about, letting him make the announcement on his own, having patience, that sort of thing, y’know?”

Dev apparently did not know. “Oh fuck that,” he exclaims, “I need to know if you’re leaving us, Nemo,” he stresses while shaking my shoulders again.

I still. Instantly, my mood deadens. It’s not like I never realized that if I did move to France I’d be leaving Dev behind (Baz too, I’ll miss him like a part of me – but we’ll keep in touch and survive it. It’s different with Dev, what with me being in love with him and everything). Moving to France had just always been a pipedream. I never reached the point of really considering the implications of the decision, what I’ll leave behind because I never really imagined I’d leave. Never really imagined I’d be able to.

Dev picks up on my change of mood. He leans forward until he’s leaning fully against the front seat, leans over, and wraps his arms around me as best he can. He hugs me against him. his arms only wrapped around my shoulders since the seat is between us, but he holds me firmly. No one says anything, even Baz is quiet. I tuck my head under his chin and lean back, letting him hold me together, wondering if this could ever possibly mean the same thing to him as it means to me.

We pull up at the school a few minutes later. No ones said a word yet, Dev is still holding me close. We’re at the general parking lot today the boys don’t have morning practise on game day. I do (my game day is tomorrow) but I don’t attend non-com practice.

A few meters away I spot Matthew at his car, he’s watching us intently. We’re probably a confusing sight; I’m dating Baz and canoodling with Dev, but the situation is complicated enough for us to follow so we never bothered explaining it to anyone else. Half the school thinks I’ve been harbouring secret feelings for my best friend all this time – which is true, but they’ve got the wrong friend in mind.

Baz sighs and pries Dev off me, “okay, listen. We’re not letting anything ruin this accomplishment fir you Niall – we’ll think about the finer details later on but for today, we are going to dinner and you are sharing your big news with us over champagne,”

“you said wine,”

“And we’re not going to ruin this news for you by focusing on the empty half of the glass, Alright?” he looks between Dev and me, we nod.

It’s the beginning of break when I’m pulled into a janitors closet on my way to the cafeteria. Someone grips my wrist pulls me into the dark room and pins me against the wall. The door closes behind me and it’s dark enough that I can only vaguely recognize the person holding me down. And even then, it’s only because we’ve been in this position enough times that it’s familiar.

“Matthew?”

He doesn’t respond, but his hands release my wrists and settle on my hips, pushing me against the wall. I can’t blame him for thinking this is okay – we’ve done this a lot, stealing a few minutes, enough to get each other hot and bothered but short enough that we’re back before anyone realizes we’ve been missing.

He’s cautious, though. His hands are on me but he doesn’t try to kiss me. He leans his forehead against mine instead. I don’t push him away – I feel bad for him, how could I not? We messed around for weeks and he fell and I didn’t – and if my heart hadn’t already been taken I probably would have too. He was falling and I didn’t catch him. I’ll never not feel guilty for inadvertently playing with his feelings. Leading him on. He was ready to make me his _boyfriend_ and then I _left_ him.

“what’s wrong, Matty?”

Something must be bothering him if he pulled me in here. He didn’t bring me here for a makeout session.

“Is it Basilton?”

“is what Baz?”

He’s still leaning his forehead against mine. leaning down slightly; he’s taller than I am. He’s holding my hips tight – like I might run away.

I might.

“you left…because you love someone else. It’s Baz, isn’t it?”

I sigh. “I told you…I can’t tell you, at least not before I tell him,”

His shoulders hunch in defeat. He leans his forehead against my shoulder. “okay.”

“okay?”

“Okay.”

“did you pull me in here just to ask me if I’m in love with Baz?”

His arms wrap around my waist. He doesn’t try anything more, but he holds me against him. An embrace.

“no,” he says softly.

I wait a minute but he doesn’t offer more. “then?”

“I don’t know why I pulled you in here. I just saw you…and I miss you.”

I close my eyes. This is what I didn’t want. I bring my hands to his hair – he has beautiful blonde hair, it’s shades paler than my own golden locks, it’s platinum in some lighting.

“You deserve better than me, Matty,” I mumble quietly. The buzz of students outside the door is loud and we’ve been disturbed twice already by students trying to get in here (to make out, probably – we jammed the door with a mop). Still, the aura surrounding us feels delicate. The boy in front of me – fragile. “You deserve someone who can put you first. I adore you, I always did – still do, but I’m not that person.”

“You don’t know how much I wish I could be that person,” I add after a minute. “How much easier it would be if I could be that person for you, easier for both of us if I could just …not have the feelings I’m feeling.”

“I know the feeling,” Matthew feebly murmurs into my shoulder.

We’re quiet for a few more minutes until he speaks again. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known,” he says quietly. Cautiously. _Guiltily_.

“hmm?”

“I wouldn’t have asked Baz out if I’d known that you loved him,”

I still.

“It is him, isn’t it? I thought it was Dev at first when you called him to get you from the restaurant – but since you asked Baz out… it’s him isn’t it?”

“I just asked Baz out so he wouldn’t lose the bet, why did you ask Baz out?” I can’t help the bitterness in my voice. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t even mad – not for myself. I can hardly blame him, he didn’t know Baz is actually gay. But that doesn’t change the fact that he sparked doubt about Baz’s sexuality. It doesn’t matter that he asked Baz out on a technicality, what matters is that boys can play the game, which unavoidably makes the school wonder, is Baz actually straight?

Baz isn’t ashamed. He’s not hiding.

But he wasn’t ready to come out just yet. He wasn’t ready for the entire school to be discussing his sexuality.

Granted – Dev is to blame too, this whole dare is on him. And we all _wanted_ a guy to catch up and allow Baz an easy way out of the closet. We did.

But it shouldn’t have been Matthew.

There should have been some … courtesy. I can't help but feel like he did it as a slap in the face to me.

“I thought you liked dev – not Baz, and I knew he wasn’t a bigot, and I just… I felt pretty shit, for a long time after you broke up with me. I just… I guess I thought that dating the most popular guy in school would make me feel better. Give me some credibility. Boost my confidence, I don’t know.”

“So it wasn’t about me then? It wasn’t about…making me jealous or proving a point or anything ?”

“It wasn’t to hurt you – if you do like Baz. I can’t deny that a part of me hoped you would be jealous, hoped that you’d change your mind. I guess that means that it was in part because of you – but not to hurt you.”

I sigh. “I never wanted to lead you on,”

“I know,” he almost sounds sincere, “you didn’t know I was falling. You didn’t know I was serious – I wasn’t at first, so I can’t blame you,”

“I really wish I could give you what you want, I – I wish I could want it.”

We don’t say anything for a few minutes longer. He just holds me. I just let him.

It almost feels like a real break up – the one we probably should have had. Back then I still thought we’d maintain some sort of friendship, eventually at least. Now it feels like I’m saying goodbye.

_Saying goodbye_

“Would it help you move on from me if you didn’t have to see me anymore?”

“You mean because we’re graduating in a few months?”

“no – different universities only do so much. I mean because I’m moving to France.”

Matthew lets go of me – allows some distance between us to glare at me in surprise. “you got it?”

“preliminarily, I didn’t tell anyone yet but … I thought maybe knowing I’m leaving might help. It would have been better in the long run that we didn’t work.”

“what about the boy you love?”

“if its any consolation, he doesn’t love me back, either”

He gives me an empathetic look, “does that mean you’re feeling like I feel?”

“I just hope you don’t feel the way I feel”

The buzzer goes. Have we really been here a half-hour?

We part ways and I make my way to Health class. I sit in front of Dev, behind Baz. Baz turns around so they can both glare at me.

“Where were you?” Baz starts the interrogation

“Did you even eat anything?” Dev asks from behind me

“What were you doing for the entire break?” Baz continues even though I haven’t answered his first question

“We checked the loo, the library, the cricket pitch,” Dev adds

“the janitors closet” I don’t miss the way Baz’s eyes glance at Dev for a split second before they’re back on me, ready to pounce.

“With who?” Baz demands

“Matthew,”

“You're hooking up with Actively-kicking-me-out-of-the-closet-Matthew, again?”

“I thought you wanted to stop leading him on,” Dev says. He sounds far more upset about this than he should, considering that he hates Matthew.

“I’m doing neither of those things,” I hiss at them both, “he pulled me in there at the beginning of break, told me he missed me – all that ex stuff. I’m pretty sure we’ve parted ways indefinitely, now, I told him I’m moving to France so hopefully, that helps – ”

“you told _Matthew_ you got accepted and you’re moving before you told _me_?” Dev asks incredulously. Baz’s eyes have doubled in size, but he’s otherwise quiet. Staying out of it.

I turn around to face Dev, but the hurt looks splashed across his features catch me off guard. I didn’t think he’d be this upset.

“you already knew,” I reason

“I guessed, you didn’t tell me, not yet – did you tell anyone else before you told your best friends?” his tone is condescending, a tone he never takes on me, I don’t like it. I don’t like him this upset. I don’t know why he’s this upset. 

“I didn’t even tell my mother yet, Devereaux” I eventually snap.

He looks momentarily hurt before his cynical façade flashes back, “oh what an honour for Matthew to be the first person you tell, how romantic,” his words hold a venom they never do. Dev is the funny one. The light-hearted one. The jovial one. Dev is the calm to the storm that is my mind.

I’ve never seen him so …what is he feeling? Angry, hurt, scared…why?

Before I can snap back, he gets up and leaves.

I sit there in shock, staring at his empty seat for a minute. When I turn back around, Baz is looking at me in judgement. “you need to tell him, tell him right now – especially if you’re, he deserves to know”

“I don’t want to leave knowing he hates me and doesn’t want me to come back,”

“that’s bullshit, all these excuses are. You didn’t want to tell him because you thought he was straight and you didn’t want to pressure him – fair enough. But this has gone to fair, Niall. If you were ever going to tell him, you need to tell him right now.”

I glare at him stubbornly.

He sighs.

“I need you to trust me.”

“I trust you. But this is bigger than that.”

Baz shakes his head, “nothing is bigger than that. Tell him”

I roll my eyes.

“If you don’t tell him… I will.”

I look at Baz in shock. I look at Baz like I don’t know him.

“you wouldn’t,” I say softly.

Baz looks sad, and guilty, but relentless. “I need you to trust me, Niall. I don’t want you to hate me I just need you to trust me and… if you don’t tell Dev I will.”

“I told you because I trusted you not to” I say, the anger seeping back into my voice. The anger at everyone. The anger at Matthew, for not understanding that I can’t love him, the anger at Dev for not understanding that I do. The anger at Baz for not understanding why I can’t say anything – for using my feelings as a weapon.

Of all people, I never expected this of him.

Baz’s phone beeps. He checks his notifications before looking back up at me (I’m scowling at him – I don’t think I’ve ever scowled at Baz before).

“Dev is going home,” Baz reads off his phone – that immediately ends the strike I felt building up against him.

“there’s three lessons left – he has a game later!”

“he’s _definitely_ bunking class… not sure if he’s playing the game, we may need to sub,”

“Do you even have a sub”

Baz gives me an incredulous look, “Do you even know anything about sport – you _have_ to have a sub,”

“I have _never_ seen you sub goalies,”

“I’ve never _had_ to sub goalies, Dev is the best,”

I frown to myself, “yeah, he is,”

The lesson goes slow. I don’t hear a single thing that’s said and I’m pretty sure Baz doesn’t either. But at the end of the class, while I’m packing my bags, he turns to me.

“I’m bunking last period, I’ll make sure he’s okay, so don’t worry about that. But… you need to tell him by this weekend. Or I’m telling him.” he gets up and walks out, not waiting for my protest.

***

* * *

**DEV**

I’m in my boxers upside down on my bed, scratching Satan’s head when I hear the doorbell. The point of being semi-nude is to prevent myself from getting dressed up, heading back to school and apologising to Niall (I’m very lazy about dressing up because when I _do_ dress up, I’m going to dress _well_. It’s Gucci or boxer shorts.)

A peep from my bedroom window awards me a view of the Baz’s Porsche outside. He should be at last period, right now. I hope he didn’t bring Niall.

Satan follows me – wet nose and bobbing tail – as I pad downstairs to let Baz in.

Baz takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to berate me as soon as I open the door, he lets it out when he sees me. “self-restraint?” he says instead, considering my indecent state.

I nod confirmation, turn tail and head back to my room, he follows. He’s alone.

“I thought Baz Pitch doesn’t bunk? Cool without callous and whatnot,”

“I figured you needed me.”

“You need me,” I counter, “to play later,”

Baz shrugs, “the games not important – I’ll sub if you’re not up to it, I’d prefer you though. But come on…are you…”

I flop onto my back, limbs spread out like a starfish, “I’m not okay. He’s leaving. He’s leaving and the time he spends here is being used to savour Matthew.”

“I don’t think it’s like _that_ ”

“what takes _half an hour_ in the _janitors closet_? We looked for him _everywhere_ , I was worried!” my voice raises at the end, I watch the sympathy settle in Baz’s features – I hate it.

He sighs. “You need to tell him.”

I scoff, “fat chance.”

Baz looks at the ground. He looks ashamed. Why would he be ashamed. “you need to tell him or I’ll tell him. this weekend.”

I stare at him. a cruel laugh rips through me, “what the _fuck_ Tyrannus”

“You have to tell him the truth!” he yells, “you have to tell him that you’re in love with him before he fucking leaves the country and finds some French boyfriend and you spend the rest of your life regretting never taking the chance!”

“And what if I spend the rest of my life regretting ruining my relationship with my best friend?” I shout back

“You won’t! nothing you say to him, about anything, could ruin what you to have! You need to tell him, he doesn’t know and he deserves to know!”

“I can’t” I grit between my teeth

He raises his head in the arrogant way of us Grimm’s, “well you have to. You said you’d put yourself out there when I did and I’ve been dealing with this bullshit for a whole fucking month – I’ve dated cheerleaders and friends, friends ex’s even, I’m pretty sure no one even believes I’m straight any-”

I laugh. Nothing is funny. “So this is about revenge?”

He sighs. He breathes slowly. He seems to be trying to calm himself down. “I would never do this to you out of spite, Deveraux, you should know that – you do know that. You just… you need to trust me. it’s better if he knows. You won’t lose him, you could never. But right now you’re pushing him away because you’re scared and hurting and he doesn’t understand because he doesn’t know you love him, and if you keep this up you’re going to push him all the way to fucking France – and then you will lose Niall, for good!”

Baz takes a deep breath.

“you’re benched tonight.” He tells me. I narrow my eyes at him. “your head wouldn’t be in the game anyway,” he reasons, “you need to think. You need to plan. You need to tell him by Sunday or I am telling him. I’m not threatening you, I’m giving you a heads up.”

And then Baz walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE tell me and also FORGIVE ME if I ever type NEIL instead of NIALL because I am simultaneously writing an AFTG fic and this shit is confusing.   
> ***  
> I apologise for taking all week to update - I know I've been typically updating every 3-4 days and a lot of readers may have gotten used to the schedule.   
>  I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS FIC. I WOULD NEVER. We're roughly halfway through and it WILL be completed. 
> 
> Unfortunately, I am no longer on Holiday like I was when I started this fic. University needs to be prioritised these days. I will try my best to update at least once a week, but a strict schedule may be hard to follow due to my new busy schedule - I don't just want to type out 2k words to finish this fic, I want to write content that does you guys justice for sticking with my story for 13 chapters. 
> 
> So the updates may be slightly less frequent but they WILL happen and they WILL be to the best of my writing ability. If you want to know as soon as i do update, I'd suggest subscribing. 
> 
> Thank you guys, your stream of comments, kudos and hits never fail to make my day <3


	14. I've loved you all along.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You already know what it is - fucking finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to brag, but naming Dev's dog Satan was a power move on my part.

** Friday, November 27th **

** BAZ **

I don’t _want_ to break my promise. The boys probably hate me for even considering it. But neither of them are taking the first step, and they’d hate me even more if I let Niall, knowing what I know. We all know what this move symbolises for them right now – space. Space to move on. Space to let go, to get over each other.

But they don’t need to, they just don’t know. I do.

I think if they were to find out when it’s too late… they’d hate me even more for keeping their secrets. Hopefully, I’m doing the right thing… I’m trying to put their feelings for each other above how they feel about me right now. I can be an absent friend sometimes, but…hopefully, I’m doing this right?

I may not even need to do anything more; hopefully, I’ve done enough to just…scare them into action.

However this plays out, they’ll both know that they’re loved by the end of this weekend.

I just hope that when this is all over, I’m still loved, too.

***

* * *

** DEV **

I’m shrugging on sweatpants and a hoodie because I’m a disappointment to myself. The point of moping around in my underwear for the last two hours was to prevent myself from running back to Niall and apologising.

But it’s starting to rain, and Baz is busy training our sub goalie, which means that Niall doesn’t have a ride home. Sure, Niall isn’t an infant; he can take the bus or get a ride home with one of the guys or _walk_. But as pathetic as it makes me… I like doing things for him. Taking care of him makes me happy. Even when I’m angry. And if I can help him, I’d rather he relies on me than try to arrange a lift with one of the other guys – Matthew – and he’s definitely not walking home in the rain.

Niall is fragile – he’s very small!

Okay, that’s not necessarily true, but he’s shorter than Baz and me, so. He’s small by comparison.

I idle close to the school exit – there are no parking’s available this close to the exit at this hour – so Niall can see that I’m here. He has to pass the parking on his way to the bus stop.

He’s surprised to see the Jeep but gets in without comment. He knows I’m here for _him_.

So yes, fine, I may be running back to him, but I am _not_ apologising.

Neither of us says anything. Neither of us knows _what_ to say. I haven’t acknowledged his presence beyond reversing out of the lot. We’re on the road once he finally speaks – soft and careful, the mood is fragile – “you came back.”

I don’t respond. I haven’t looked at him since he got in. I can’t – I’ll break. The few sad certainties weighing me down are enough to make me keep him close and a safe distance away, both at once.

> France. _Leaving_.
> 
> Janitors closet – Matthew.
> 
> Leaving _me_.
> 
> Blonde hair.
> 
> Green eyes.
> 
> _I’ll miss you_.
> 
> You’re _leaving_ me.
> 
> I love you.
> 
> Don’t go.
> 
> Let me love you.
> 
> I support you. You should go.
> 
> _Don’t leave me_.

I barely register Niall at all through the maelstrom in my mind until I hear him – sharper and more dominant than before – “Stop the car!”

Clutch. Breaks. Handbrakes – I stop. Why are we stopping?

I look at him.

We’re at the side of the road, and he’s looking at me panicked.

“What’s wrong?” I ask croakily. My voice is rough of disuse and panic – I haven’t said a word since Basil left.

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Niall repeats incredulously

“Why did we stop?” I clarify

“Did you hear a single word I said since I got into this vehicle?” his voice is raising, he’s not used to us actually _fighting_ – neither am I – he’s angry at me for being angry at him, he doesn’t know the protocol.

“Not really, no, can I start the car now?”

That just eggs on his anger, he scowls and turns a few shades of mauve, “Fine, start your fucking car,” he unclips his seat belt and turns away from me to open his door. I lock it from my side (I can control all the locks from the driver’s seat). I’m not letting him walk – it’s raining (it’s always raining). He unlocks it again – I lock it immediately. He turns to me abruptly, _“What?”_ he snaps.

“You’re not walking.”

“Why’d you even come back?” he sneers, “you made your feelings pretty clear when you just – fucked off.”

“I came back,” I point out.

“Why!” he demands

“because it’s raining.”

“It’s always raining, not good enough,” he unlocks his door again, I lock it again.

“because you needed a lift,”

“no.” he shakes his head.

“because you hate the bus,” I’m not screaming anymore.

“I hate you,” he sounds defeated. And fussy. I know he’s lying; we both know it. He’s fussy.

“that’s not true,” I lean over him, grip the seatbelt and drape it across him – clipping it back on. Our faces are millimetres away from each other as I lean across his seat.

“no,” he agrees, “but I’m angry at you” his eyebrows are angrily furrowed, but his lips are in a full pout. He’s trying very hard to be angry instead of sad.

It just makes me feel sadder.

“that’s fair,”

“You were a dick,”

“I’m sorry,” I guess I _am_ apologising then.

“I already apologised to you already – you ignored me,” so that’s what he was saying while I was spiralling out of control.

“Why?” we’re leaning in a fraction closer now.

“for making you worry,” he inches an immeasurable fraction closer, our noses brush.

“you’re leaving me,” it’s barely a whisper.

“never,” he breathes the word. It’s barely audible.

I’m not sure who leans in, who initiates it … but our lips reach other, and it feels like home.

It feels like coming home.

* * *

** BAZ **

This goalie is very bad.

* * *

** NIALL **

I don’t know how this happened, and I don’t know what I expected once it had. To be kissed in the rain? To be incapable of keeping our hands off each other long enough to get in the house? To be pinned against the doors and countertops and beds and kissed senselessly?

Instead, we shared a shocked moment of silence after the kiss, neither of us knew what to say. I don’t even know who initiated it, to be honest. Dev brought his fingers up to his lips in awe. And then he started the car and took us home – his home – as I blushed in his passengers’ seat. I didn’t ask why he wasn’t taking me home, I couldn’t say goodbye to him right now.

***

* * *

** BAZ **

We are going to lose this game. Radlett are going to score all the goals.

After approximately 30 minutes of practising – in the bloody rain – and Charles not stopping even _one_ of my shots, I hear a laugh from the bleachers. I turn to find Simon Snow smirking down at me, Charles apologizes again, but my attention isn’t on him. A few insults run through my mind that are perfect for this occasion, but I’ve been trying to be nice to Snow, lately. He’s been trying too.

“Shouldn’t you be at your own damn practice, Snow?” I sneer. That’s as nice as I get. That sneer is out of affection, really.

“there’s no practice just before a game, smartass. Let alone in the rain. Speaking of – are you _trying_ to get fatigued before your game?” he raises an eyebrow at me.

I roll my eyes, “Clearly I need to train our backup goalie,” Charles is a few meters away from where Snow has approached me, I doubt he can hear us over the rain.

“Where’s Dev?”

“Even the best of us need our downtime, Snow,”

“Simon,”

“Snow.”

“ I mean he’s not _terrible_ , give the poor guy a break. He’s not even going to make it to the game at this rate.”

I give Simon a condescending look, “He hasn’t stopped _one_ of my shots.”

“One of _your_ shots – you’re the best striker on this team, most keepers cant stop your shots. If anything, this is a test of _your_ ability, not a test of _his_.”

“Dev can stop some of my shots,” I protest.

“Dev is as good as you are, but you’re both better than the average high school athlete.”

The idiot has a point, “are you saying there’s a chance he might actually somewhat keep our goal?”

Simon regards Charles, “I think he might not be Dev, but that doesn’t mean he’s hopeless. And you may not play as well as you do with Dev in your goal, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a fighting chance.”

Snow probably recognizes that I’m still sceptical, because he continues, “here,” he takes the ball from me, “if he can’t stop me then you’re right, and he’s a shit goalie,”

“you’re a rugby player!”

“you think aiming a kick at a goal isn’t pivotal to rugby?” he raises an eyebrow at me as he sets his goal up.

He shoots. It’s nowhere near my skill level, but it’s a passable kick. More force behind the kick than shot strategy, but I guess that’s the rugby player in him. Charles blocks the shot. Simon smirks at me despite not making the shot.

“I told you – he’s not terrible, you’re just ridiculously good. You’re hardly the benchmark of an average striker” he says it so casually like being complimented by Simon Snow won’t cause me to immediately combust.

“But can he stop a soccer player,”

“I’d bet he can if you stopped pushing him so hard and let him actually rest before the game,” his tone is condescending.

I know a challenge when I hear one, “and if he doesn’t?”

“what do you want,”

 _You_. “do I need to decide now?”

“ ‘course not – but if he does, I get to call in my payment.”

“Okay, but wait – are we betting on me losing the game or on Charles not stopping literally any goals?”

“to level the odds – I’m betting on you winning, despite the inexperienced goalie.”

“and I’m betting that we probably won’t win with Charles in our goal.”

“throwing the game doesn’t count though – it has to be because _Charles_ failed”

I am genuinely offended, “I would _never_ throw a game.”

Simon smiles. “are you sure you’re not just sentimental because you miss Dev?”

“I am.”

“thank goodness for the rain buffering the noise – you’re hardly being an encouraging captain – poor Charles.”

I hold out my hand, he shakes it.

Never before have I _wanted_ to lose a football game.

***

* * *

** DEV **

The trip up the creaky wooden stairs is silent, but Niall’s taken my hand in his, so I feel at ease. I head to my walk-in closet once we reach my bedroom. Niall waits for me on my bed, rubbing Satan’s belly. Satan’s tail is wagging in delight – he’s crazy about Niall (you and me both, buddy). I toss a pair of soft, worn sweatpants at Niall’s head, followed by my old football team shirt from last year’s kit (because I’m soft for Niall in my clothes). “GRIMM 3” it reads. Niall has abs and lean muscle, but he’s shorter and slighter than me – my clothes are a size too large on him. It’s wholesome.

We still haven’t said anything following the kiss. He doesn’t seem mad about it, which is comforting, but I think that’s because we’re both very confused and I’m not entirely sure who leaned in first.

Niall takes it upon himself to crawl up my bed and under the covers. It _is_ cuddling weather, but this is _not_ helping my self-restraint _at all_. He steals my pillow – not the spare pillow he usually uses when he sleeps over – and makes himself at home. I take it for the ice-breaker it is, and crawl under the covers, after him.

I poke his side. “you took my pillow.” I’m sitting upright, leaning on my calves.

Niall looks up at me, sinfully relaxing on his back. His arms behind his head. “oh?”

“you know that’s my pillow,” I halfheartedly tug on the corner.

Niall grabs my wrist and pulls me down on top of him, leaning up to smother my lips against his once I’m close enough. I gasp in surprise, and he swallows my breath. As confused about feelings and motives as I may currently be, that’s all the confirmation I need to know he wants this too – wants me too. I lose myself in him. The kiss doesn’t last more than a few seconds, but when we pull away, he leans up to whisper in my ear. “I’ll be your pillow.”

***

* * *

** SIMON **

Once again, I find myself playing half a game. I have a ride to the foster house as soon as my half finishes, but I can’t keep doing this. College scouts have already begun sitting in on matches – I need to prioritize rugby right now; lord knows nothing else is going to get me a life. Matthew is earning more and more support from the boys, and I can practically taste the mutiny on my horizon – they understand my situation, and it goes unsaid, but I know they feel I shouldn’t be captain if I can’t prioritize them.

They’re not wrong.

But… rugby, being captain…it’s one of the few joys in my life. I’m not going to step down without fighting for it.

I need to talk to my foster parents.

***

* * *

** NIALL **

We’re being good. We’ve controlled ourselves despite a few kisses – a great effort on my part. Dev took my offer to be his pillow very seriously; he’s wrapped his arms around me, and his head is pillowed on my chest.

“Are we going to talk about it?” he asks after only a few minutes – Dev is not particularly known for his exhibition of patience.

“We have to, I think” I respond after a minute, the fingers of my right-hand carding through his curls. “I thought we’d last longer than that though,” I laugh.

He twists around to look at me, “I can’t enjoy this until I know what it is,” he admits, “I feel like you’re about to just …go home, act like this never happened,”

I reposition myself, so I’m next to him instead of under him, the hand that was lost in his hair now cups his cheek. We’re nose-to-nose. “I would never do that to you” I whisper.

He closes his eyes. Like he can’t even look at me. “you did it to Matthew…I never blamed you – you guys were just messing around, he knew that he caught feelings anyway. But I can’t…I can’t do that messing around thing. I won’t.”

“you’re not Matthew,” I coo. His eyes are still closed. “Matthew knew I didn’t feel the same way about him – I never claimed otherwise. But he asked me to be his boyfriend anyway, in case that could change over time.” His eyebrows furrow, he doesn’t like this story. “I knew I could never fall for Matthew. Do you know why?”

He doesn’t respond, but he opens his eyes to gaze in mine.

“Because I’ve loved you all along” It’s impossible to miss the raise of his eyebrows in surprise. The gasp. The ‘o’ shape his mouth forms. The astonishment.

The hope.

Hope?

That’s when the panic starts to set in. I just told Dev I loved him. “this is a lot to hit you with at once,” I say, panicked. “It’s not fair – I shouldn’t have told you all that!” I turn back on my back again, away from him. I stare at the ceiling. It’s vintage, and it still has all the glow-in-the-dark stars he, Baz and I put up there when we were kids. The stupid stars remind me of how big a part Dev is in my life. “I mean – I don’t even know why you kissed me – were you about to tell me it was a mistake and you don’t want to hook up anymore?? I understand – you’re too important to me to risk ruining things over a friends-with-benefits situa –”

Dev cuts off my rambling by pinning me against the bed and kissing me senseless – as previously predicted. This kiss doesn’t last too long either, I suspect it was primarily to shut me up.

“you love me?” he asks.

I want to defend myself. I want to take it back – reject it. But he has that look in his eyes again – that look I can’t quite decipher – _hope_.

I sigh. I’ve come too far to half-ass it now. “I’ve loved you all along,” defeat is evident in my voice.

“Je t’aime” he whispers. French. _French, for I love you_.

I give him a disbelieving look. “you don’t need to tell me what you think I want to hear… it won’t ruin our friendship if you reject me _._ ” _it will just crush my soul._

Dev chuckles. “you’re so stupid,” he kisses my nose. “I’ve loved you this whole time – I was just too scared to tell you,”

I sit upright in shock, he follows, blissful.

“what do you mean, this whole time,”

“I realized I had feelings for you, like, a little over a year ago maybe,”

“you never said anything!”

“I didn’t think you returned my sentiments,” he protests.

“I’ve spent my whole life loving you!” I practically yell at him.

“what?” his voice is small, and his face is shocked and confused.

I exhale. “remember when I came out,”

“years ago.”

“like a year before that,”

Dev unnecessarily throws the blanket off and grabs me by the shoulders, “what – we were kids! You came out when we were….babies!”

I give him a bland look, “I came out when we were fifteen.”

“Are you saying you started liking me at fourteen?” his tone is utterly disbelieving – he’s buying none of this.

“I started crushing on you before that – you were my first crush.” I never thought I’d get to ever tell him these things. “but it took me a long time to realize I had a crush on you. it was hard because I didn’t know I was bisexual back then. And it’s not like you were new and I just developed a crush on you – you’d been in my life for as long as I can remember. My life has always revolved around you, and baz, so it took me a long time to even…figure my feelings out. But I came out when I realized it wasn’t just a crush,”

He’s still looking at me in shock. “all those years,’

“you were worth the wait,” I whisper.

“you should have said something.”

“you were straight,” I explain, “and you probably wouldn’t have developed feelings for me if you were conscious of mine for all that time – it wouldn’t have happened naturally.”

He gives me a small smile, “yeah…I used to think I was straight until I realized I was gay for you” he smirks.

“wait… you came out to Baz first… did Baz know?”

“yeah Baz knew all along,” he says offhandedly.

I just stare at him. It takes him a moment to realize that I’m not planning on responding. That I _can’t_ respond.

“oh don’t be mad at him,” Dev starts, “he couldn’t tell you because I made him promise to keep it a secret – and he also didn’t want to out me,”

I cut him off, “Baz knew about me too!”

His brows furrow. It takes him a moment. He does the math. I can pinpoint the millisecond that realization dawns on him. “Baz knew! Baz knew this whole time that we felt the same way about each other!”

I nod in exasperation.

“oh, that arsehole,” he whines, “why didn’t he _say_ anything,”

“to be fair… I did make him promise not to tell,”

“yeah but that’s because you didn’t know if I felt the same way, so, fair. But when I told him that I had feelings for you, he should have told me that you already loved me!”

I shrug, “I wish he said something sooner…but he was just keeping our secrets. And to be fair to him, he did try to talk me into telling you the truth consistently recently. Which makes sense, I guess. For the years before then he just sorts of…looked at me with pity about my feelings for you and in the last year or so he’s been trying to force me into telling you the truth – I just thought it was because it was senior year and we might all be splitting up for college,”

Dev nods in understanding, “Baz was here a few hours ago – gave me a deadline, said if I don’t tell you by Sunday then he’ll tell you. I was so angry. I thought he was being a prick to get revenge for the dare,”

I cover my face with my hands, “he told me the same thing! After you stormed out of the class – before he came to see you!” I groan.

Dev smiles softly. “he just wanted us to figure it out for ourselves…

“he didn’t want us to hear from a third party that the person we love, loves us back,” I smile at him.

Dev lays back down and turns to me. “but I’m glad he gave me the deadline, I’m glad he pushed us,”

I nod, laying back down next to him. “I’m glad I know you love me back,”

“I love you back,”

“I’ve loved you all along,” I remind Dev.

“I’ll love you always,” Dev promises me.

***

I don’t remember falling asleep or what happened after the “I love you’s” but I wake up hours later, tangled in sheets with Dev who is drooling slightly. Satan is asleep on the floor next to the bed. Dev’s hand is loosely draped around my hips. We fell asleep facing each other, exchanging endearments.

I grab my phone to check the time.

The game is on at the moment – I guess Dev is definitely not playing. I know Baz is probably fuming.

I think about his ultimatum – really it was just supposed to be a nudge in the right direction, but we weren’t playing along.

> ** Minions  **
> 
> _(18:52) *image_attachment*_

I take a selfie of myself (clearly wearing Dev’s football shirt) under the covers, a sleeping Dev next to me.

> _(18:53) Thank you, Baz._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I need to add any tags on this story? Any warnings or just usual tags? Comment your suggestions, if any.


	15. Pancakes and silent conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dev and Niall are wholesome.  
> Did Charles or Did Charles not hold the goal?  
> Baz & Niall & Dev  
> Penny is a life guru

**Saturday, November 28 th **

**SIMON**

When you move into a new foster home, there are a few protocols they undertake to ensure the foster kid and foster parents' mutual safety and comfort. I’ve lived through the process so many times that its second nature by this point.

Firstly, there’s a scheduled weekly visit for the first few weeks when a foster kid arrives at a new house, as well as a few impromptu visits. Personally, I haven’t been visited as yet although that’s likely because of my age – the system probably assumes that I can take care of myself at this point, or at least contact social services if there are any issues. They prioritise the younger ones – I can’t begrudge them that since I’ve been one of the younger ones.

I have my first scheduled visitation in this new house this evening. It really disturbs my study time with Baz.

My social worker – Beverly – is expected at the house at 3 pm. She’s nice, albeit mildly disappointed that despite years of both our best efforts, she was never able to get me adopted.

On account of the visitation, my current foster mother – Denise – asked me to be home by 2 pm. I agreed and jogged off to the morning shift.

To be home by 2 pm means that Baz and I have hardly enough time to have lunch before we get to studying. We have no time to spare today, no time to talk or just catch up. Except for that first week, we’ve hardly kept to the one-hour agreement. We take our time nibbling on pastries and sandwiches after my shift, and then we always go to the greenhouse – we don’t even check if my previous study table is free, anymore. At the greenhouse, we study and take breaks where Baz basically explains the botany to me, and we play with butterflies and lizards. Baz shy’s away from the more unappealing bugs – I pretend not to notice, but I’m pretty sure he’d faint if he saw a roach. The point is that we’re rarely done by 2, these days, which means that I’ll need to tell him that I have a commitment to attend to.

My mind drifts between explanations I could give Baz for why I need to be done early today. I don’t want this to change our weekly schedule. I don’t want him to rush through tomorrow’s study session as well, thinking that I’m making an excuse to just… not unnecessarily hang out with him.

Maybe I should just tell him the truth? I try to avoid using the Foster-Kid-Card, ever, but surely telling him the truth will help him understand that this is a one-time thing.

I decide to put this all in my ‘try not to think about’ box, while I mix the wet ingredients for chocolate cupcakes.

My shift gets off at twelve; I’ll decide then what I’m going to tell Baz.

It’s before eleven when he struts in – demanding attention, even from the kitchen, where I am – with his minions flanking him. They settle in a corner booth on the lower level.

Why had it never previously occurred to me that Baz comes to Starbucks for reasons other than tutoring me and free coffee? It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here with his friends, not looking for me, flipping through our little menu and deciding what to order.

He didn’t even text me that he was coming and wants to order for free. Not that he needs to order for free, but still. Does he even remember that I work here? That I’m expecting him to meet me here in an hour?

Or is that irrelevant and he’s just here with his friends?

***

* * *

**DEV**

It’s not uncommon for me to be woken up on a Saturday morning by Niall being either obnoxious or clingy. It is less common to be woken up on a Saturday morning with Niall curled around me under my covers, while I am in little spoon position.

We woke up late last night, wrapped up in each other. Thankfully Niall’s presence at my house is expected, so my parents didn’t bat an eye when I told them that I was driving Niall home at 10 pm.

However, Niall’s mother gave us both a chewing out for Niall missing curfew and returning home ‘in the dead of night without texting or calling’. We both apologised. Niall responded by informing his mother that I’m his boyfriend now, which served as informing me as well that I am now Niall’s boyfriend.

Not that I was mad, of course. Just unexpected. The sight of Niall in his living room, bundled up in my baggy clothes – my soccer shirt with my surname and number on the back – apologising to Mrs Demaury for missing curfew and telling her that I’m his boyfriend.

I never thought I’d get this lucky.

As an afterthought, Niall also informed his mother that he’d gotten accepted to university in France. She kissed and congratulated him – and then me, although I don’t know why – and then proceeded to cry.

Niall’s parents aren’t on the best of terms with each other, so I’m uncertain how she feels about her son moving to another country to explore his roots with his fathers family, but…no one could miss the light in Niall’s eyes when he talked about moving to France.

We couldn’t not support him. This is too big. He’ll never fully be the person he’s supposed to be if he doesn’t do this for himself. So we all cried for another hour. We drank tea, and she told Niall how proud she is of him, and she told me how there’s no one she’s ever trusted with Niall as much as she did Baz and me, and that she’s beyond happy that I’m his boyfriend. That acceptance meant the most. I’m not even out to my own parents, and Mrs Demaury has always felt like an aunt to me. her acceptance of this relationship made me even happier than I was the previous hour when I found out that I was in the relationship.

Basically, yesterday was an emotionally turbulent day. When Niall informed us that he’s leaving for France, I felt my heart rip out. When I found out about his encounter with Matthew, I felt like he tore the disembodied heart to shreds. When he kissed me, I felt like he was putting the pieces back together. When he loved me, I felt like he was trying to stitch all the broken pieces of me back into a whole human. When I saw him in my clothes, and he told his mum about me and called me his boyfriend… I felt alive for the first time in a long time.

So, basically, last night’s sleep was incredibly earned, and so if this idiot had to attempt waking me up in any of his usual ways, I would have kicked him off the bed. I almost did.

While arguing about which one of us is the little spoon by nature, we decide that we should tell Baz about us. It’s not like he doesn’t know – this probably wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been pushing us. But after everything we’ve both put him through these past few years, and all the effort he’s put in to nudge us in the direction of making the first move without encroaching on our personal space… he deserves better than a post-makeout selfie.

Snow has Baz booked this afternoon, so Niall and I waddle out of bed and text Baz to meet us at Starbucks. I head to the shower to freshen up while Niall curls up under my covers, waiting for me.

When I walk out of the en suite, a cloud of foggy mist behind me, I find Niall shirtless at my dresser. He’s in the process of shrugging into one of my hoodies – his own t-shirt and jacket discarded in crumpled forms on the bed.

“problem?” he challenges when he catches me watching him with interest.

I shake my head. “I’m keeping this, though,” I reply as I take the t-shirt he came here in, fold it, and settle it into my pyjama shelf.

I hand him his leather jacket to wear over my hoodie and pin him against the wardrobe once he’s dressed.

“I’m keeping your football shirt,” he informs me as I nibble on his earlobe. His fingers creep up the back of my neck and find my hair – he pulls.

“I was hoping you would. I didn’t hand it to you by coincidence yesterday.” My hands find his ass as I lick a strip down the side of his neck. “ It was a calculated move – getting you to wear my name, my number …”

Niall whines.

It’s the most gorgeous sound I’ve ever witnessed.

We’ve ended up back on my bed – Niall pinned against the mattress by my body, his hands held down above his head and his neck exposed for me to mark – when we hear a car hoot outside. We’d ignore it, except we both know the Porsche’s horn by now.

Niall groans under me. “did you tell Baz to fetch us?”

“no, I think he’s just obsessed with transporting us places,”

“I think he’s just obsessed with us in general.” Niall is pouting, but we neaten up and head downstairs to see our cockblocking best friend anyway.

It’s weird to think that he’s known about both our feelings all this time. A part of me wants to be mad at me for not telling us. Another part of me understands that our own requests of him are what prevented him from doing just that. He was merely protecting us – from our own feelings and from each other. We backed him into a corner.

I can’t be mad at him for never telling me about Niall when he kept trying to convince me to come clean – and come out – to Niall (and I’d bet he gave Niall the same lectures about coming out to me). I can’t be mad at him for not outing us to each other when I was mad at him yesterday for forcing me to tell Niall and giving me an ultimatum. I can only look at it from the angle where he was trying to be a good friend to us both, and appreciate him for it.

When I get outside and lock up behind me, Baz is outside his car, leaning on the door – blatantly judging us.

* * *

**BAZ**

What will I do with all this free time that I now have on my hands, now that I don’t need to spend several daily hours trying to convince my two best friends that they’re in love with each other.

Maybe I should take an extra class.

“So? Who made the first move? – because _that_ person gets shotgun.” I’ve earned the right to be a dick about this.

“I mean, personally I’d prefer if Niall and I _both_ sit in the backseat,” Dev instigates.

“there shall be _no_ canoodling in my car!”

“ _canoodling_?” Niall finds this hilarious, but Niall finds half of mine and Dev’s interactions borderline hilarious. He thinks we’re too alike for our own good – I don’t see it, beyond our sense of style.

“yes, canoodling.”

“We have no idea who made the first move,” Niall explains, “I think we just both leaned in at the same time and hoped for the best,”

**DEV**

“you kissed?” Baz is more excited by this than I expected, although whether its because he’s happy for us or just happy that he doesn’t need to deal with this anymore, I’m not sure.

“yes – we only actually got to the feelings part after we made out and made it to the bed,” I smirk at him.

“ew – okay too much information.”

Niall just laughs as he settles into the front seat. He doesn’t correct my insinuation – he’s perfect, you see?

“Thanks for that Bazzy, by the way – I see now why you kept trying to make me talk to Dev about my feelings,” he’s using the finger quotes and everything, “ – even though he was straight,” Niall tosses an accusatory glance over his shoulder at me.

“I thought I was straight!” I protest

“No one is really straight,” Baz says

Niall’s eyebrows furrow, “that’s not true – surely some people are straight,”

Baz shrugs, “well, no one in this car is straight, at least,”

Niall and I nod in confirmation.

“anyway, I also see why you kept telling me to come out to Niall, like, every five minutes,” I say

Baz nods. “Apparently, the concept of ‘just trust me and take my advice’, means nothing to you idiots and the only language you understand is forceful ultimatums, so,”

“oh yes, about that; sorry about all the names I called you in my head whilst receiving said ultimatum” I reply

Niall nods passionately, “ditto.”

Baz rolls his eyes. “whatever – so, this is a legit thing then?”

“we’re boyfriends, yes,”

Baz smiles. He’s genuinely happy for us, I think. “who asked who?”

Niall freezes.

I smirk. “Niall informed his mother – and me – that I am his boyfriend.”

Niall turns in his seat to face me, stricken, “I’m sorry – shit – I thought we just …agreed that we were together, I should have asked!”

I lean forward in my seat to kiss his forehead.

“Canoodling!” Baz reprimands

“we’re boyfriends,” I confirm with Niall. “I don’t care that you didn’t ask. You told your mother. That was the sweetest thing.”

Niall smiles contently.

Baz gives me a look in the rearview mirror. _Are you going to tell your parents???_

 _I don’t know_ my expression hopefully says back.

Baz’s eyes cut to Niall and then back to mine, _But Niall!!_

_I know!!_

Baz’s eyes turn sympathetic. _Do you want me to help you tell them?_

I sigh. _I don’t know._

We’re off to Starbucks.

***

* * *

**SIMON**

I shouldn’t be taking peoples orders – I’m not actually a waiter, but I dust my flour-covered hands on my apron, grab April’s notepad and head to Baz’s table to take their order. No one else will know not to charge Baz for his coffee – this is just me fulfilling my side of the agreement.

As I drift closer, I realize that both of Niall’s legs are draped over one of Dev’s knees – hanging between Dev’s legs. Dev is facing Baz – who is sitting on the opposite side of the booth from both of them – in conversation, as Niall scrolls through something on his phone. It’s casual and intimate…and not the most platonic.

Is this new or is this one of those social cues that have always been there and I’m just now noticing?

Three heads look up at me as I approach them, it’s Baz who speaks.

“I didn’t think you ever left the kitchen, Snow,” Baz’s voice doesn’t hold judgement these days – just teasing.

“I could send someone else, although that means you don’t get your fancy drink that only I know how to make,” I smirk at him.

Baz playfully narrows his eyes at me. “Touche, Snow. These lovely gentlemen,” Baz gestures vaguely in Dev and Niall’s direction, “are treating me to breakfast to say thanks for being the amazing friend that I am,”

I see what Baz is doing – he’s hinting at me not to mention that he eats for free here. He’s making his friends treat him. It’s not like money is a particular issue for any of them, so I assume he’s just fucking with them – I play along.

I take their orders; Dev order’s a chai latte with and a stack of pancakes. Niall orders a black coffee – he says he’s not hungry, to which Baz informs me that Niall will simply steal Dev’s food. This is apparently a thing. Dev doesn’t seem bothered by it, I smile as I write down their order.

I turn on my heel to head off towards the kitchen, Baz interrupts me.

“don’t I get to order?” he calls after me.

“you give me enough orders already,” I call over my shoulder, “you’ll take what I give you – and you’ll like it.”

**BAZ**

“you’ll take what I give you, and you’ll like it,” Simon smirks at me over his shoulder.

I flush. He smirks. I look up, shyly. Dev and Niall are both smirking at me. I roll my eyes.

“So what’s this fancy drink that apparently no one but Snow can make?” Niall asks me once Simon is out of earshot.

I sigh. I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. “I guess it’s not technically on the menu.”

“technically?” Dev’s tone is condescending.

“Okay – it’s not on the menu at all.”

Niall is smiling cheekily, “Explain.”

I groan to express my displeasure at telling them any of this. “Snow figured out that I just – always order the sweetest drink on the menu so he …made up a whole new concoction – it’s better than any on-menu drink, I swear! But I guess since he made it up, it’s not a legit drink so… no one gets it but me. And only he knows the recipe.”

Niall and Dev stare at me in silence for a few moments.

Dev breaks the silence first. “Snow made a drink for you?” I nod. “that’s…”

“…romantic,” Niall completes.

“ you guys can _not_ turn into one of those couples who finish each other's sentences,”

“we’ve been doing that since before we even got together,” Dev protests.

“it’s incredibly irritating,”

Niall objects to this, “it is _not_ as annoying as the silent conversations you two idiots have. I don’t know how that’s even _possible_!”

“I am just brilliant at communication, you see,” Dev interjects

“Says the guy who couldn’t tell the guy he’s in love with – who just happens to also be his best friend – that he has feelings for him, or that he’s bisexual, or figure out that those feelings were requited,” I drone on.

Dev is showing me the finger when Simon returns to our table with a tray of our orders. He sets the plate of pancakes between Dev and Niall with two forks, distributes our drinks (he does get me the Pumpkin Mocha) and lastly, presents me with a thick slice of oreo cake.

My diet may be my Achilles heel, but at least Simon seems to support it.

***

* * *

**SIMON**

It’s nearly 12 when I’m faced with an unforeseen dilemma. I sneak into the toilet to call my life-guru.

“Hey Si, what’s up?” Penny’s voice rings through the line. The background interference is enough to tell me that her parents are awake, at home, and all over the place. I love Penny’s house. It’s always chaotic and busy and interesting – but not like the orphanages I grew up in. It may not always be the neatest – but it’s not just a house, it’s a home.

Something Mrs Bunce once said has always stayed with me, has always hit home, personally.

 _Home’s are for self-expression, not first-impressions_. It’s one of those mantra’s I could never fully relate to, having never had a home, but I could never forget about either.

“Hey Pen, I’m alright. Tired; my shift just ended. How are you?”

“I’m okay. I’m teaching Anush how to make tea.” She sounds rather proud of herself.

“Isn’t Anush a little…young, to be handling _boiling water_?”

“You’re never too young to learn how to make _tea_ , Simon! I was _seven_ when I learned!”

I chuckle to myself. Penny is brilliant, which also means that she’s hardly the benchmark for age-appropriate development.

I play along. This is why she keeps me around. “He’s already a year behind, then.”

“Exactly!” I’m pretty sure she’s serious. “Anyway Si, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be studying with Baz right now?”

“that’s why I called, actually –”

I can hear the level of exasperation in her sigh. “what did Pitch do now?”

“Nothing! – or well, I’m sure he did _something_ , but nothing I _know about_ at least – anyway, he’s here with Dev and Niall. They’ve been here for the last hour or so, and now its time for our study session and I don’t know what to do! Do I go over there and …tell him my shift is done? – but they might take that as me invading their social time when Baz is already helping me as a favour. But if I just don’t go at all, and Baz knows I know he’s here, he might just…wait for me?” I groan. “what’s the protocol here, Penny?”

“why not just ask him?” she responds reasonably, “text him. say that you’re done with your shift whenever he’s ready.”

“I guess – but that sounds kind of demanding for someone who is doing you a favour.” Penny doesn’t really need people to do her favours; she’s exceptionally self-sufficient, so I don’t think she understands the courtesy. She can also be rather demanding; so I don’t think she gets where I’m coming from about that one either.

I hear her sigh. “they didn’t cash up yet?”

“no,”

“But you’re off the clock?”

“yes.”

“Hey guys, I just wanted to check if you needed anything before I clock out for the day,” Penny starts in a deep voice that I presume is meant to be me. “So Baz will remember the time. Then, if he doesn’t say anything; just go have lunch and read over your notes while you wait for him. Stay within his line of sight but try not to make it seem like you’re waiting for him,”

If anyone ever wonders why I come to Penelope for literally everything, it’s because it’s a one hundred percent effective tactic.

**NIALL**

“Hey mates, I just thought I’d check if you need anything before I clock out for the day,” Snow greets us with a radiant smile. He’s a pleasant lad. I get why Baz fell for him. Unfortunately for Snow, this means that Baz needs to be a dick to him on principle. It’s just Baz’s way – a coping mechanism of sorts.

It’s fascinating to watch Baz and Snow interact like this. Baz is relaxed when it’s just us. But whenever Snow is here, he sits up straighter, looks more purposeful, and makes eye-contact with every inanimate object that is not Snow. He tries very hard to act casual. It’s so pathetic, it’s adorable.

“guess you need to go now too, Bazzy,” I mumble around a generous bite of Dev’s pancakes.

Baz wipes his hands on a napkin, preparing to get up, “I do. Thanks for breakfast gentlemen,”

“ – We never agreed that we were paying,” Dev halfheartedly objects.

Baz continues like Dev never spoke. “ – I’ll catch up with you boys later. Do try not to snog each others' faces off, this is a family joint.” Baz smirks at us as we watch realization dawn on Snow.

He doesn’t react fast enough to mask his surprise. I guess he shouldn’t be that surprised – my legs are draped over Dev’s knee, and I’ve been nibbling on his food all day. Dev isn’t discouraging me, but he’s being pretty normal for the most part. I’ve never particularly shied away from PDA, and he doesn’t seem to mind, so.

\- Unless Simon is surprised because Dev and I are like this in general?

Dev subtly turns to me. “hang out for a bit?”

I nod.

“don’t you have a game today, Niall?” That catches me off guard. Mild panic.

I hurriedly fish my cellphone out of my jeans pocket and search the teams' group chat, scrolling through unopened messages. The chat has been ‘muted for one year’ which doesn’t really help me stay updated.

“it’s okay, I’m off the team,” I casually inform them.

I hear Baz attempt to smother a laugh as Dev has a surprise-induced coughing fit next to me. “what do you mean?”

I’m not essentially concerned by this new information – I’m more relieved than anything. I buy myself a moment to answer as I swallow another bite of pancake. “they kicked me off the team.”

“wha – I – well – I mean –” Dev sighs. “are you okay?”

**DEV**

Niall pauses chewing to observe me for a moment. He seems to realise that I’m genuinely concerned about him. Niall leans up a bit and kisses my nose. The gesture makes my tanned skin blush.

“I’m okay.” Niall assures. “more relieved than anything – I hated being on the team.”

“you love cricket!” I object.

“ _watching_ cricket,” Baz interjects, “why _did_ you join the team? You never enjoyed it enough to take it seriously. And just because you like a sport doesn’t mean you necessarily need to play it,”

“like me and football.” Snow contributes, a smile on his face.

“and here I thought that the only reason you keep crashing our practice is to watch me play,” Baz feigns an exaggerated sigh.

“I just like the sport, arsehole,” Snow mumbles, but his ears are red.

Niall just shrugs. I can see there’s more to it – but he doesn’t want to talk about it right now. Whether that means in front of Snow, or in front of Baz too, I’m not sure, but I’ll ask him later. “I’m really fine.” He drapes my right hand around his shoulder and settles it there. Leaning into my side as he continues to munch down the last of my pancakes.

I chuckle. “and how am I to eat if my hand is around you?”

Niall brings a bite of pancakes to my lips and feeds it to me.

Wholesome.

I turn to Snow. “Simon, I know you’re off the clock – but could you please send a waiter over?”

Snow smirks, “what can I get you? I’ll place your order at the kitchen on my way out and get them to bring it to you when it’s ready.”

“another stack of pancakes please,” I turn to Niall whose drink has long since emptied, “coffee?” Niall nods. I turn back to Simon. “and two coffee’s, thank you,”

Simon nods and heads off towards the kitchen.

Baz gets up as Simon leaves the kitchen. “we didn’t think this through – I’m your ride, but I need to take Simon to mine. should I leave you guys home, or?”

Niall answers for us, “actually – since it’s Saturday, the weather is good, and I don’t have a match… Dev and I are going to wander around the city for a bit. Don’t worry, we’ll make our way,”

I don’t know where we’re going or how we’re making our way, but I’m excited at the prospect of spending the day alone with Niall.

Baz smiles – a genuine smile – “my session with Snow is only an hour – call me if you need a lift.”

I wink at him and try to communicate _thank you but get the fuck out of here we’ll be fine_ through a single facial expression.

***

* * *

**BAZ**

“So?” Simon asks as soon as we’re on the road.

I raise an eyebrow at him as I drive. “So?”

“So did Charles hold the goal or not?” he demands, smiling brilliantly. His confidence tells me he already knows the answer.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Liar!” Simon shouts at me – clearly, no one ever explained passenger seat etiquette to him. when your life is in the hands of the driver you should not be shouting at him.

I laugh, “he did okay. He wasn’t Dev, he let in four goals,”

“but he held the goal well enough for you to score the winning goal,” Simon smirks “so he did his job,”

“We won by one goal, that’s hardly a win.”

“that’s still a win, and it’s a win by the standards most teams use. You’re just used to being untouchable,”

“well it’s good to know it’s not all Dev, I can still hold my own,”

“definitely – although you and Dev on opposing teams, there’s a game I’d play to see,”

“you should watch us practice drills then. The only goalie that challenges me enough to actually practice is Dev, and vice versa, the only striker that tests him is me – so we practice against each other. It gets heated.”

Simon’s interest piques, “can you score on Dev?”

“sometimes,” I admit, “but he can also block my best shots sometimes. I’d say we’re an even draw,”

Simon nods. “I do come to your practice often… but I don’t really see you and Dev facing off,”

“you come to team practices – Dev is my vice cap, so he helps me train the boys. When we have our private practices, just the two of us, that’s when it gets interesting. We can’t perform at our best when we’re training the others, but we can push ourselves – and each other – to the max when it’s just us,”

“I want to watch,”

I shrug even though excitement builds at the idea, “you can if you’d like – Niall always watches,”

“are those two an item now? Or were they always and I’m just oblivious?”

I laugh, “it's new, but yes, they are.”

Simon nods. "okay, so I won our little wager - do I need to decide my reward right now?" 

I consider him thoughtfully. "I'll allow you to call on it later if you give me vedo privileges," I negotiate. 

"One vedo." 

"Three." 

"One." 

"Two." 

"I will call it in right now and you will get _no_ vedo privileges," he threatens. 

_"Fine_." 

Never have I ever regretted scoring the winning goal, before. 


	16. House visits: why they suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly - Simon's social worker - conducts the first house visit in Simon's latest foster house and he has feelings about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things. 
> 
> 1\. I just want to clarify before you read this chapter that I know nothing about the foster system etc. The contents of this fic is purely fictional, with the intent of plot growth and drama. I am alway swilling to learn, so feel free to correct me if you are more knowledge on the topic. But, please know that it was never my intention to offend anyone who belongs to the foster system, is orphaned, or is a social worker. Social work is an amazingly selfless profession and this fic is purely from Simon's POV and he is fictional. No hate to foster families, foster kids or social workers. 
> 
> 2\. I know I'm like super fucking late with this update but it's because things have been super hectic for me. I graduated a month ago and as cool as that is, it also means that I'm actively job hunting to no avail. Due to this new adult turn my life has taken, I won't be following the same bi-weekly updating schedule I was previously following, because who has the time. 
> 
> 3\. I will never abandon this fic though. Even if updates are taking suspiciously long, I promise i will update. 
> 
> 4\. I had this chapter drafted for a few weeks and kept working on it, and realistically I could have updated it a week or so ago. But the truth is that it didn't feel complete, and I didn't want to just...update for the sake of updating, y'know? I mean, if you guys have been following this fic - 16 chapters in; then you deserve better than a moderately passable chapter just for the sake of a punctual update. I want to post chapters only once I'm proud of it, and hopefully once it's polished enough that you guys will like it, even if it takes a little long.

**Saturday, November 28 th **

**SIMON**

No matter how many times you do it, the nerves never cease. It feels like getting an injection; you’re anticipating the needle, and they warn you before they prick you – but even if you’re not afraid of needles, you can’t help the millisecond of nervousness the second before you’re injected.

House visits from the system feel the same way. You know they’re coming; they’re always coming. You expect it. It’s supposed to be a good thing, supposed to make you feel safe.

And yet, every visit feels like the orphan’s equivalent to parents’ day at school – the day your social worker comes in to check on your progress in your new home.

It took me a few years to learn the point of it all. It hadn’t occurred to me when I was younger that that day was an escape—a chance to tell the truth. When I was a kid, the visitations were the one day that the foster homes were at their best. They just did it to put up a front, but it was practically a festivity for me. On that day, I was dressed up in my best clothes and given food and presented to the system with faux fondness. Not hidden away.

Of course, not every home was bad – some of them were a safe haven, but I’ve spent seventeen years in the system, so I’ve had my share of shitty homes, too.

The thing about these visits is that the uncertainty makes you nervous – not the visit itself, the uncertainty of what happens next.

Will you be allowed to remain in this house? – that depends on if those foster parents want to keep you and if it would be in everyone's best interest’.

Will they move you again? – Again, this depends on the decision of the hosts.

The shitty part is that if a family wants to get rid of you, they can’t really be forced to keep you. They just need to make a phone call, and you’re out of there. But if the kid wants to leave? You need a valid reason. Sometimes it feels like you need to _wait_ for something bad to actually _happen_ for you to leave a bad home. You can’t just say that they made you feel bad and you don’t enjoy who you are when you’re there.

The more self-sufficient I grew to become, the more these visits began to feel like a parents’ meeting – the irony in that isn’t lost on me.

It’s the day Beverly comes to check on my behaviour. Comes to check if I’m coping in my environment and being treated fairly – and the fucked-up part is that you never know whether to complain or not.

Even the good homes (like my current home) are never going to feel like _home_. Because it’s not _your_ home. _You are charity._

But you never know whether to complain because your next home is a gamble. The thing about being a foster kid is that you’ve had better, but you’ve had worse, too. And if you get relocated again, you don’t know if the next house will be better or worse.

And when you’re in a decent house and have only a few months left in the system, you don’t complain. The fear of the unknown still fucks with your head, though. Because the thing about Denise and Jared is that I haven’t actually interacted with them since I got here, not beyond the bare minimum of greetings and the like. That’s not the worse thing in the world, so I didn’t complain. But why go through the inconvenience of becoming foster parents if you don’t even want to interact with the kids you’re hosting? Unless they enjoy being foster parents, and I’m the problem? – in which case, I have no idea what they intend to say to Beverly today, and that’s very concerning. What if I’m back in the orphanage by Monday?

My mind has been spiralling all morning to the point where even Baz has noticed.

“Crowley, Snow,” he berated me, “I’ve been explaining the immune system for like five minutes and then just describing the plot development of _My Little Pony_ for another three – are you even listening to me?”

Not really, no.

“Why are you following _My Little Pony_?”

“I have sisters,” he’d answered noncommittedly. Baz went on to be a drama queen, expressing how something must exceptionally be wrong if it keeps me from paying attention to _him_ – which is apparently impossible.

Something I didn’t know about Baz Pitch before we became… familiar; is that he’s an attention whore. Or maybe I’ve always known it, but I’ve only recently been introduced to the drama queen he becomes when you _don’t_ pay attention to him – it’s amusing to rile him up. He likes attention. He knows he can command it. But…it’s not malicious like I’d always assumed – or accused, I guess.

I had to explain my distractedness.

I didn’t want him to think that he’s doing me this favour, and I don’t even care enough to take it seriously.

When I told him about my scheduled visitation later today – and the fact that I needed to be home earlier – he'd packed up immediately. “Well, why didn’t you say anything, Snow!” he scolded. “We don’t need to have a session today!”

Which was the opposite of what I was hoping would happen, to be honest.

His presence is calming. I knew that the minute I was on my own, I’d get lost in my head again – like I am now.

Instead, I just told him that I do actually really need his help for this new section. 

Instead of conceding – Baz Pitch does not concede – he said we could have a two-hour session tomorrow instead (which did make me feel sort of better. It gave me something to look forward to beyond today, at least.), and then he drove me home.

It was the first time I allowed him to leave me at my actual house.

So now I sit here – foot-tapping and knee bobbing – waiting for Beverly to show up.

When Beverly _does_ finally show up, it’s in a flurry of cinnamon-scented perfume and paisley-patterned clothing. Chaotic and familiar.

I’d been passed around throughout my childhood a lot – it was basically a game of hot potato, and I was the potato. But Beverly is a constant.

When my eyes find hers as she walks through the big, old-fashioned oak door…something in me shatters. I can’t describe the emotion, nor any possible reasons behind it.

I mostly keep it together. I don’t erupt into tears or anything – but I feel my entire mental and emotional state drop as she asks me how I’m doing. I just want her to hug me and tug on my curls like she used to when I was little.

I never realised how touch-starved I was.

I manage to keep up appearances until the private interview. Beverly and I settle down on the porch swing. It’s usually a lot more formal than this, but Beverly has been my social worker since I was six years old.

“What’s the matter, Simon?” she kindly asks me.

Slowly, I shake my head, not trusting my words.

Beverly casts a concerned look my way. “Is this place _bad_ , Simon? I could get you removed right now – I’d leave here with you right now,” she assures me. And she means it, I know - If I was in any real danger. I don’t think I am.

“It’s fine,” I shake my head, “they’re fine, really.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “then what’s the matter? You’re rarely this quiet – even when you had that cute little stutter,” she teases. She looks wistful, reminiscing.

I struggled with speech as a child. I had a stutter which was only outgrown once I had reached double-digits. It still visits me in a mild form when I’m particularly scared or nervous.

I take a deep breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Beverly takes my hand in hers. It's warm and far softer than my own.

“What three things cannot long be hidden?” she asks me like she’s asked me time and time again when there’s too much going on in my mind. It’s been a while since I’ve needed this mantra. I smile at the comfortable familiarity of it.

I take a breath, in and out.

“the sun.” Breathe. “the moon.” Breathe. “the truth.”

Exhale.

She smiles fondly at me. Beverly likes to act poetic, but Penelope suspects that Beverly learned that little trick from Teen Wolf. I haven’t watched Teen Wolf myself, but the mantra does help when I need to calm down.

“Now,” Beverly tries again, “What’s your truth?”

I slump further into the porch swing in surrender. “Really, everything’s fine. They’re fine. They’re not the Murphy’s,” – Abuse, “or the Cooper’s,” – different kind of abuse, on a different foster kid, I got out of there immediately. “or even the Blue’s.” – treated me fucking poorly, Penelope calls it emotional abuse and starvation. “ - they treat me like a person. it’s just… I …”

“you’re not happy?”

“it’s selfish to expect more. And I wasn’t going to ask for me – I’m _not_ asking for that. I don’t know. I think I’ve just felt abandoned here for so long that as soon as I saw a friendly face I broke down.” I look down, ashamed.

Her eyebrows furrow. She frowns. “what do you mean – abandoned?”

I cast a downwards glance. “it’s just… it gets less comfortable the older you are, y’know? Like, at seventeen, you’re still a foster kid. In a house where they have their own kids. I don’t fit in.”

Beverly brings me into a side hug. I lean into her scent. It’s not my favourite, but the overly sweet essence is comforting – familiar. “I’m sure the more time you spend together, the more comfortable, you’ll feel. You just need to give it time before you feel like you belong.”

“But we don’t spend any time together since we know its not a situation where they’d ever consider adopting me – this just serves as a shelter.” I turn to face her. “they’re pleasant people. They haven’t made me feel…anxious or scared or anything – they’re fine. But it’s like…it’s sort of like living on your own – which I will be soon, but at least then I’ll be comfortable enough to just hang out in my own house.”

“what do you mean?” her tone is serious now. “ where do you hang out now?”

I shrug. “here and there. School, Starbucks, rugby practice. Friends houses. I leave early in the morning and make it back just in time for curfew – I don’t want to be in their way. Oh! That reminds me; is there any chance that you could help me request a later curfew for game days while you're here? I’ve been playing only the first half of games to make curfew, but I’m not going to impress any scouts that way. Also, I’m captain…”

Beverly looks like a gaping fish.

“okay. Okay, wait... there’s like…so much to unload in that.”

I wait patiently.

“okay. Let's start with the easiest thing. Why are you missing games? There’s no reason for you to be kept from that – especially if it will help you secure your post-foster care future. I’ll look into that. what did they say when you requested a later curfew?”

I cringe slightly.

“you _did_ ask before this, right?”

I cringe more expressively.

“so what?” Beverly sounds exasperated now. “your plan was just to miss games and jeopardise your whole entire future until you could find someone to ask for you?”

“I just didn’t want to sound demanding!” I plead, “they may not be the most…affectionate bunch, but they were easy enough to live with, so I didn’t want to get kicked out in my final year of care.”

Beverly sighs. “Simon. We spoke about this – about you naturally assuming the worst. Sometimes people may want to help you, or in this case, just not make things unnecessarily difficult for you, and that’s okay!”

“well, it’s not a reality I have much experience with, Beverly,” she said. I could call her by her first name a few years ago when we became so familiar that she lit up a cigarette in front of me. It was also around the time we both understood that I had probably already surpassed the age of adoption. “– so, under my circumstances, it’s just being realistic. If you have a good thing – or something that’s better than a bad thing – you work around everything else and try not to be ungrateful.” I’m rarely strict with Beverly; she’s practically family. Well, _she_ is to _me_ anyway. I’m sure _I’m_ just a job to _her_. But I’m pretty sure that there was slightly more than the anticipated level of venom behind those last words.

She pulls me back into a hug, and I sink into her. It’s only now that I realise what really made me break down when I saw Beverly – what broke through the façade I’ve been implementing to keep myself strong all these weeks.

It’s not the family’s fault. Not in the slightest. They’re genuinely pleasant people – albeit a bit detached, but that’s not the worst thing in the world. And maybe if I’d had them a year or two ago, I would have enjoyed the freedom. I would have been more appreciative of their hospitality and accommodation and looked at the blessing of solitude. But right now… right now it’s not them. Right now, it’s the fact that in a few months, I’m leaving the system, and although there is a tiny part that awaits independence…I’m also fucking terrified. And I’m also fucking afraid of being entirely alone. What if Penny goes to a college far away? She likely will. I’ll have no one, and I won’t even have foster families and other foster kids to force me to be social. I’ll become a recluse. And maybe that’s not the worst thing, but it’s a scary thing.

I’ve just been left alone in my head for too long.

“I should appreciate their accommodation. And the mutual respect. They haven’t given me a hassle about anything – they’ve just been unusually absent, but I’ve never addressed it, so I don’t know why. And that’s not the worst thing.” I sigh. “I think I just….I’ve been feeling alone for too long. I’ve always been alone, but my aloneness hasn’t always felt lonely until recently.”

“you're never alone, Simon.” She hugs me tightly. “you have my number – you know you can always use it. You never do. But maybe I should be using yours to check up on you more between visits.” She decides. “I’ll talk to them privately about their detachment thing, and we’ll both address the rugby thing.

I thank her, we catch up for a few more minutes, and then I’m on my phone, killing time and awaiting the verdict.

I don’t realise I’m doing it until I hit send, but I text Baz.

> _**Baz** _
> 
> _**Simon** : thanks for understanding, today._
> 
> **Baz** : Contrary to pop _ular belief, i have emotions and things._
> 
> _**Simon:** oh?_
> 
> _**Simon** : what emotion are you feeling now?_
> 
> _**Baz** : is this your smartass way of asking me how I’m doing?_
> 
> _**Simon** : How you doin’_
> 
> _**Simon** : *Joey Tribiani voice*_
> 
> _**Baz** : you are a nightmare._
> 
> _**Baz** : I’m okay._
> 
> _**Baz** : are you?_
> 
> _**Simon** : I guess. mostly._
> 
> _**Baz** : how was the meeting?_
> 
> _**Simon** : it’s going on at the moment, actually._
> 
> _**Baz** : oh?_
> 
> _**Baz** : couldn’t wait t_o text me?

I roll my eyes.

> **Simon** : _awaiting the verdict. Private meetings._
> 
> _**Simon** : might get extended curfew though. Full matches._
> 
> _**Baz** : Dev will be happy to hear that._
> 
> _**Simon** : Is Dev a fan of our rugby team?_
> 
> _**Baz** : He is not._
> 
> _**Baz** : he just particularly hates Matthew._
> 
> _**Baz** : and Hence, is team #SnowForCaptain_
> 
> _**Simon** : omg._
> 
> _**Simon** : Because Matthew dated Niall?_
> 
> _**Baz** : oms*_
> 
> _**Baz** : yes._
> 
> _**Simon** : oms?_
> 
> _**Simon** : you also dated Niall._
> 
> _**Baz** : oh my Satan._
> 
> _**Baz** : only a little._
> 
> _**Simon** : ah yes. The great dane._
> 
> _**Simon** : how far must one debauch_ _young Niall before they are worthy of Devs fury?_

I didn’t realise the minutes ticking away as I texted Baz to distract myself, but the adults come back in.

The rest of the evening goes by in a whirlwind. We drink tea because Beverly is – above all – a guest. And because this is England. And I almost spit out my tea across the table onto Denise’s face when she directly addresses me.

“Simon,” she says kindly. “Beverly has brought it to our attention that my husband and I…well, that you may have felt neglected.”

I just stare at her for a moment. I know I’m not in trouble – she wouldn’t try anything in front of Beverly…but it's still awkward. I swallow thickly.

“and we just wanted to make it clear, Simon,” Denise continues, “that that was never our intention.”

“definitely,” Jared – Denise’s husband – adds quickly. He’s a large man – almost too tall to be a human – with a trimmed beared and thick sideburns. He has hair the length of Baz’s which he wears in a ponytail, but it doesn’t look anywhere near as soft and silky as Baz’s hair is. Denise in contrast is a short, rounded woman with hair possibly shorter than Jared’s. It’s a conundrum. “we never wanted you to feel…unwanted,”

“We just wanted to give you your space,” Denise cuts her husband off, “we’ve never fostered a teenager before and we didn’t want you to feel like you were being forced to spend time with us because we’re housing you. We know as a young man you need your freedom,”

“controlled freedom, of course,” Jared says to Beverly, “hence we gave him a curfew,”

“maybe we should have communicated it a bit better… it’s just, you were never home, and we thought you were spending time with your friends and we didn’t want to force you to spend more time at home we had already given you a curfew,” Denise explains.

Beverly starts playing therapist.

“Simon, why were you never home?” she asks patiently.

Three heads turn to me and I feel my mouth go dry. “I… well I just didn’t want to intrude on your home too much. I thought I should stay out of your way…”

Jared frowns. “Simon… we’re fostering you because we want you to find a home here too, this isn’t just our home, we want to build a relationship with you.”

Denise nods, “we just didn’t want to force it.”

Beverly turns to me again. “would you like to share with us where you spent your time while you were …out, Simon?”

“Uhm…well I went for a walk before school… rugby practice is after school and then I just studied until curfew. On weekends I work and have study sessions with a friend after…”

Beverly gives him her signature ‘you’re doing great’ smile of encouragement. “and how do you feel about the curfew that Jared and Denise have implemented?”

“I mean… I don’t mind it. It’s just on game days that it’s a bit of a problem…” I look at Beverly and she just smiles. “rugby matches often start late, so to be home for curfew, I only get to play the first half…”

Surprise washes across Jared and Denise's faces. Beverly looks proud of Simon for finally speaking up.

“oh, Simon, I’m sorry we didn’t know!” Denise exclaims

I shake my head, “I should have said something sooner, I just didn’t want to seem ungrateful for your hospitality.”

She looks at me with eyes of endless pitty.

“I didn’t even know you were on the team,” Jared says confused.

“uh-I’m the captain. Well – co-captain since I’ve only been playing partial games,”

More noises of regret and despair from Jared and Denise. I’ve never heard them this vocal.

“of course your curfew can be adjusted for game days, Simon, it’s for school!” Denise adds.

“If you want…” Jared starts cautiously, “I mean…it’s late, and you really don’t need to walk home in the middle of the night once it's after my working hours…”

“- Sometimes a friend gives me a lift,” I add. What is he getting at? Is he going to lend me his car? I don’t even have a license.

“sure, but if you want,” he looks nervous, “only if you want, we could attend your matches – I’d love to see you play, and then we can all drive home together…but if you don’t want that we understand, of course!”

I’m in awe. “you want to?”

“of course.”

I look down at the sugar cubes in front of me. “I’ve never had anyone in my bleachers before… everyone else on the team has people who come to watch them but for me, it’s just Penelope – who’s my best friend – and sometimes Shepherd and Micah come along but that’s just because they both like Penelope and – that’s not important,” I cut myself off quickly.

Denise smiles at me with fondness. “well maybe we can meet Penelope and keep her and her admirers company in the stands,”

“Oh…” I look starry-eyed. “alright.”

  
“and if you’d like to, we’d love to get to know you better, Simon. We’ve always wanted to but we didn’t want to push you before you were ready. So only if you want to…maybe we could figure out how to spend some time together,” Jared says.

“I want to know more about this Penelope,” Denise agrees. “and football, and your job! I didn’t know you had one. And your study sessions! Maybe I can even help. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“or a boyfriend,” Jared adds quickly, “that’s alright too,”

And I laugh. I don’t know when last I laughed – it was probably with Penelope, maybe even with Baz – but I know I haven’t before laughed in this house.

And maybe…maybe everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank fucking god for Beverly, am I right?


	17. A shift in perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon talks to Baz about his visit during their two-hour catch up session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i brought down the fic's rating from explicit to mature - that's more appropriate, i think? 
> 
> leave a comment if you think i should edit any of the tags or anything. or add any. now that we're 17 chapters in, and the story may have deviated from the initial intention. 
> 
> warnings? tags? rating?

**Sunday, November 29 th **

**BAZ**

“you look half dead,” Simon snickers.

“I am,” I groan. “I’m so exhausted; Dev kept me on the phone for two hours last night with a detailed narration of his first date with Niall. When I was _finally_ able to cut the call on him, I was just drifting off when _Niall_ calls with _his_ point of view of their date,” I sigh. “At this point, I feel like I’ve been on the date myself,”

My head rests on my left palm as I mark the homework I left him with during yesterday’s brief session.

“Oh?” Simon prompts, his tone mischievous. “So, would you say you’re struggling to stay awake, then?”

I raise an eyebrow, but before I can respond, Simon fakes a big, deep yawn. I want to roll my eyes, but before you know it, I’m yawning. Just as big and just as deep – only it’s involuntarily real this time.

Simon bursts out laughing – but his laugh is cut off by a very real yawn.

We’re both guffawing in laughter within minutes.

“that’s called the echo phenomena,” I explain, “the involuntary mirrored response when someone’s yawn makes you yawn.”

Simon just smiles at me for a moment and then looks down shyly. “You’re so smart.”

He doesn’t say it with a tone of flattery. He just… states it, like a fact. And somehow, that throws me further off balance.

I turn my attention back down to his homework, my cheeks crimson.

We work for 45 minutes before deciding to take a break and hunt for coffee downstairs. Today’s treat (Simon is still paying me in treats – just because we don’t work at the café anymore doesn’t get him off the hook. He just brings them with, when I pick him up after his shift to bring him to my house.) are Simon’s favourite sour-cherry scones from the Starbucks bakery. He baked them himself. He smells like scones, it's mouthwatering.

“Are you starting to get the hang of this section?” I ask him as we head downstairs. He looks adorable today. He must have washed his hair this morning – the freshly conditioned curls bounce across his forehead in golden waves.

“Mildly confused,” he answers, “but we’ve tackled harder.”

And then the demon _winks_ at me.

He’s been in a good mood today, far better than yesterday – I want to ask him how the meeting went… but I don’t know if it’s my place.

We’re working around each other in the kitchen when my step-mother walks in.

“Good afternoon, boys,” she greets us with a warm smile. Daphne is always a comforting, reassuring presence – but right now, I regrettably wish she would vacate the kitchen, because the atmosphere was starting to feel particularly domestic and cosy…

“How are you, Simon?” Daphne continues after we’ve greeted her. “it’s good to see you, you left in a hurry yesterday. I hope everything is okay.”

Simon cuts me a glance that says something along the lines of _you didn’t tell her?_ – but I can’t be sure because he’s not Dev, and we’re not practised in nonverbal communication yet. Daphne, of course, _did_ ask me if everything was okay. But above her maternal concern, I felt it wasn’t my place to share something so personal.

“Hello, Daphne,” he politely smiles at her. They’re on a first-name basis now; it’s adorable. It also induces gay panic in me when I think about it for too long.

“Yes, I had a visit from my social worker yesterday,” he explains.

Daphne’s face somehow gets softer and sweeter. “I hope it went well, my dear. You know our doors are always open if you need anything at all.”

Simon’s smile brightens. “It did, actually – go well, I mean. And thank you so much… I appreciate it a lot.”

They make idle chitchat for a few more minutes as the coffeemaker goes ding. I butter Simon’s scones and add jam to mine.

By the time Daphne leaves to see to my sisters, Simon’s attention is back on me, and I have our mugs and saucers on a wide tray, waiting patiently.

“What time do you need to be home today?” I ask.

“curfew.”

“there’s no rush, then…. we can eat in the sitting room instead of the greenhouse if you’d like? And then continue upstairs?”

I was nervous to ask, but after watching the excitement dawn his features when he mentioned his visit to Daphne, I get the feeling that he wants to talk about it. Daphne wouldn’t ask more questions; she wouldn’t want to come off as intrusive. But Simon texted me during and after his visit, so… that's encouraging, I think.

“sure,” he smiles.

He needs to stop smiling at me if he expects me to maintain coherence.

We settle on the comfortable armchairs on opposite ends of the mahogany coffee table. He immediately digs in, scattering crumbs on the coffee table, and I hide my smile behind my coffee mug. His manners are horrendous, a disaster – he should _not_ be endearing.

Outside, the rain pours. We’re cuddled in cosy furniture next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Faintly, I hear my twin sisters watching tv a few rooms over and Mordelia playing the piano upstairs. Daphne loves him. We’ve been tiptoeing around my father’s presence, but of course, I’ve made father aware of Simon’s weekly visits. This feels so domestic. Comfortable. It almost feels like a date.

I’m in too deep. Practically drowning.

But he’s got more to worry about than teenage hormones, and he’s straight. I try not to focus on my own feelings too much. I try not to think about it.

“So, how did the visit go yesterday?” I manage to ask after he’s munched down his first scone. “ – if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay,”

He shakes his head, “it went really well.”

“Oh? You were pretty unsettled beforehand,”

“I was nervous,” Simon explains, “they were… okay, do you actually want to know, or are you asking out of courtesy? Because the short answer is, it went fine – better than expected, and I’m fine now. I can focus if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

I try to keep the frown off my face, but that hurts. This isn’t his fault – I’m the one who pushed him to the point of thinking that I’m an emotionless monster.

“I really want to know.”

“It went really well. I was a bit concerned… but really, I think it was just a miscommunication. Beverly – my social worker – made us talk it out loud, and … it’s good now.”

I wait a few more minutes until I realize he’s not planning on elaborating. I settle in with my mug, “I’m listening.”

He smiles around his cup and starts at the beginning. He tells me about his social worker, how she’s been on his case since he was six years old and is the closest thing he has to family. He says he doesn’t remember much about his previous social worker, except that he stunk of cigars and had a large, grey moustache covering his upper lip. He doesn’t tell me much about his experience in the system – which I’ve been wondering about for years – but starts at the house he’s currently in. He tells me about how he left home at dawn and killed time until curfew. How he’d spent weeks staying out of their way, trying his hardest to live in their home without intruding on their lives. Missing games to make it back before curfew, but not asking them for an extended curfew as to not seem ungrateful for their hospitality – the whole shebang.

It pisses me off that the world could harm something so pure. Simon Snow was named accurately by whoever named him. Snow. Something so pure, light, innocent – yet when angry; destructive, numbingly painful to touch, deadly. An element all on its own. Snow flutters down to us mere mortals in effortless beauty, leaving us in awe. But it doesn’t last long. It melts soon after because of the harsh conditions it’s exposed to. I don’t want Simon to melt.

I wish I could protect him from this harsh world. I wish he didn’t consider me as a part of it.

And yet, he’s telling me this story with a lopsided grin and vibrant eyes – as if he’s telling me a happy story.

“the thing is,” Simon continues, “they said that they’d never meant to make me feel neglected. They just wanted to give me my space and freedom. Controlled freedom, hence the curfew – and I guess missing games is on me because I never actually made my schedule known to them, but they said they want to work on it! They said they’d come to my games, so I’ll be playing full games now, and they want to _get to know me,_ and – you look mad, why do you look mad?” he cuts off mid-gush.

I’d been keeping quiet for the sake of not ruining this for him… but I guess my face betrayed my anger.

They’re giving him _space_? What bullshit of an excuse is that. Giving a teenager _space_ means letting them have a life before curfew and not bothering them every half hour about it. It means letting them have their own room with privacy and knocking before you barge in. It means talking to them and letting them know that they could always talk to you – but not forcing them if they’re not ready.

It does _not_ mean letting the kid fuck off from dawn until curfew with no knowledge of where they are, if they’re safe, if they have lunch or need money to buy some. They didn’t know about his job. They didn’t know he’s been seeing me every weekend. They didn’t know he’s on the fucking rugby team – let alone the captain, let alone putting his duties as captain second to his duties as a ward. Simon Snow is the fucking sweetest human. You’re telling me he wasn’t approachable enough to speak to when he’s a kid, and you’re an adult, and he lives in your house? This sounds suspiciously like bullshitting the social worker to not get in trouble with the agency for neglect. 

And the thing is … he’s not an idiot. He’d see it, too, if it were happening to someone else. If he looked at this from a different perspective. If he didn’t want this so badly. And now he’s looking at me expectedly and, what? Am _I_ supposed to tell him? All he wants is a family to love him. He already believes I’m a monster; is it up to _me_ to break this truth to him? Is that fair to him, to me?

He’d hate me if I tell him; he’ll think I’m just trying to break his heart – trying to prevent something good from happening for him, and him from enjoying it.

He’ll hate me if I tell him, and I’m somehow wrong, and they’re just morons instead of cruel.

He’ll hate me if I tell him, and I’m right. He’ll be shattered – not for the first time, surely, but every time you break and piece yourself back together, you lose a few pieces of yourself. You’re never entirely the person you were before. I don’t know how many more times this boy can break and still be himself.

Do I tell him, to prepare him for probable heartbreak? Or, allow him these brief moments of happiness instead of making him have anxiety about it before it even happens?

He’s waiting for an answer. His scones are finished. I still have half a scone left. I take a small bite to buy myself some time.

“Just…be cautious,” I tell him after I swallow. “I’m happy for you that they want to put in more effort going forward and make things right. Just… be careful. Don’t rely too much on anyone else. Don’t give away your power over your emotions,”

I probably sound like an idiot, but I don’t know what else to say. It’s not fair to tell him everything before anything has happened. He’s happier than he’s been since we’ve started these lessons, and he deserves a day or two of it.

I’ll just need him to keep me in the loop about it – I'll get him out of there if things get bad again.

He smirks at me, “worried about me, Basil?”

I roll my eyes, a smile tugging on my lips. “Worried about not getting my pumpkin mocha if you’re too depressed to make them.”

“Always the gentleman,” he laughs contagiously.

We head back upstairs and work for an hour and a half, pausing only when a butterfly lands on the tip of my bun. Simon decided he absolutely needed to take a picture. It’s a sight to behold. It’s a picture of my side profile – Simon sat next to me instead of in front of me; hence he noticed when the butterfly landed upon my low man-bun. My feathered fringe flutters in my face, and although it’s a mere side profile, you can recognize that I’m scowling (to hide the smile). Unfortunately, he refuses to delete the picture. Fortunately, _he refuses to delete my picture._

We’re far more productive today than usual – two hours allow for far more productivity than a single hour apparently does. Usually, it’s time to pack up as soon as we really get into it.

Soon, it’s time for me to take him home, and he asks me to take him to his house instead of Starbucks. I freeze slightly in surprise. It wouldn’t be my first time doing so – I dropped him at the house yesterday because he was in a hurry to get back in time for the meeting. But, he’d been avoiding this house like the plague if he could help it. Returning only at night. And now it’s 16:30 in the afternoon, there’s still a few hours left, he hasn’t even bought himself dinner as yet, and he’s just…going home? I don’t trust these people. He’s too vulnerable right now to think about this clearly. Will they feed him?

His voice draws me out of my spiralling thoughts.

“So, you’ve heard about the same date in detail twice, from both peoples points of view,” I assume he’s talking about Dev and Niall, “was there any difference in their stories? You know, how stories can change slightly if there’s a shift in perspective?”

And that makes me smile because it’s such a scholarly thought that it sounds more like something Penny would say, but in the weeks we’ve been spending time together – with a steadily decreasing amount of animosity – I’ve learned that Simon Snow is actually smart. He’s not a genius in terms of book smarts, and honestly, I’d owe that more to his circumstance. But he’s smart and knowledged, and actually thinks like an intellectual – I don’t think I’d be able to spend this much time with him if he didn’t.

“mostly the same,” I tell him. “but I think that’s because this wasn’t your typical first date. They already know each other. They’re already in love with each other and know that their love is requited – and they’re best friends, so hanging out is easy. The biggest difference in their detailed narration’s was that Dev’s elaborated on how cute Niall was at literally every given moment, and Niall’s narration obsessed over how adorable everything that Dev does is.”

“tell me about this date, and it’s very cute, adorable participants then.” he laughs, a smile playing on his lips.

And the thing is, it’s not about the date. Niall and Dev’s social life doesn’t concern Simon at all. It’s just _this_ , I think. Us. Talking easily about everything and nothing. Filling the silence with comfortable conversation because we learned how to do that now, instead of antagonizing each other.

So I speak to him. I tell him about my best friends, about their first date, and how I feel about our friendship dynamic shift since they started dating. I tell him that I don’t feel left out, that I’ve been waiting for this to happen for literal _years_ , that I was the only one who knew before they did. That their love makes me happy.

And he smiles, and his eyes are closed. He’s leaning against my car seat, facing me – his cheek pillowed against cool leather.

Sometimes my knuckles brush his jeaned thigh when I change gears – because this is a sports car, which is small, and because Simon Snow has thick thighs.

And it’s perfect. Domestic. Easy.

Loving him like this is so easy. Thrilling. Terrifying.

Dangerous.

Soon – too soon – we pull up at the house, and he’s still smiling as he waves goodbye to me and heads inside, closing the oak door behind me.

I do a silent prayer that they take care of him. That somehow I’m wrong because I’m just a suspicious, untrusting person, and that these people are idiots, but not dangerous. I pray that he keeps smiling and he’s well-fed. Not neglected.

After everything… I just ask that if I’m right, and he’s unhappy…that he _calls me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if this chapter made you yawn! (Because I yawned while writing it. And editing it. And then again while proof-reading it.) 
> 
> YAWN!


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